Long and Sharp
by SoulGamesInc
Summary: Lann Reyne is the sole surviving member of House Reyne after they rebelled against Casterly Rock during the year of 261 AC. He was born during the massacre of his home and spared Tywins wroth because of his young age, to be raised a Lannister in all but name. These are the tales of his adventures and those of his children as they play the Game of Thrones and attempt to rebuild.
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire by George RR Martin, i do however own the non-canon character(s) of this story. This is purely a work of my personal enjoyment so i ask you to not expect anything worthy of the great GRRM. I fully welcome criticism/suggestions as this is my first attempt at a fanfiction. The story will eventually be finished (i hate leaving things unfinished) but i have no real schedule. Please review as i'd love the feedback.

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**Chapter 1: Prologue**

Old, rich, and powerful, the Reynes had prospered greatly from Lord Tytos's misrule. Roger Reyne, the Red Lion, was widely feared for his skill at arms; many considered him the deadliest sword in the westerlands. His brother, Ser Reynard, was as charming and cunning as Roger was swift and strong. Time passed and in 261AC a young Tywin Lannister sent a raven to Castamere and Tarbeck Hall, demanding that Roger and Reynard Reyne and Lord and Lady Tarbeck present themselves at Casterly Rock "to answer for your crimes."

"The son is not his father." Reynard spoke

"He's still a boy." Lord Roger replied, tossing the boys letter aside.

Reynard shook his head for a moment, "I assume we're not going to Casterly?" He knew the answer well enough, his brother would never take orders from a cub like Tywin Lannister no matter how different the boy was compared to his father.

"The boy calls us to Casterly and we'll go to Casterly, but not alone." Roger smiled.

The Reynes and Tarbecks chose difinance instead, as Ser Tywin surely knew they would. Both houses rose up in open revolt, renouncing their fealty to Casterly Rock. So Tywin Lannister called his banners. He did not seek his father's leave, nor even inform him of his intent, but rode forth himself with five hundred knights and three thousand men-at-arms and crossbowmen behind him. House Tarbeck was the first to feel Ser Tywin's wroth.

"Call the banners you fool!" Lord Tarbeck commanded

"It's too late m'lord, the enemy are already here..." A young man replied, nothing but a common guardsmen, scared out of his wits. "We cannot stop them!"

The Lannister host descended so quickly that Lord Tarbeck's vassals and supporters had no time to gather. "Then we ride out and meet them!" Foolishly his lordship rode forth to meet Ser Tywins host with only household knights beside him. In a short and brutal battle, the Tarbecks were broken and butchered. Lord Tarbeck and his sons were beheaded, together with his nephews and cousins, his daughters's husbands, and any man who displayed the seven-pointed blue-and-silver star upon his shield or surcoat to boast of Tarbeck blood. And when the Lannister host resumed it's march to Tarbeck Hall, the heads of Lord Tarbeck and his sons went before them, impaled on spears.

"Ellyn..." Lord Roger spoke as rage filled him. The Red Lion arrived in time to see Tarbeck Hall in flames. Two thousand men rode beside him, all he had been able to gather in the short time available. Tywin Lannister had three times his strength. "We attack. Fast and swift, before they can prepare." Lord Reyne hoped that surprise might carry the day, he commanded his trumpets to sound the attack and charged headlong into Tywin's camp. After the first shock, the Lannisters recovered quickly and their numbers soon began to tell. Lord Reyne had no choice but to wheel and flee, leaving near haft his men dead upon the field. He escaped, but not before taking a crossbow bolt between the shoulders, punching his backplate. The Red Lion rode on, only to fall from hos horse less than haft a league farther on; he was carried back to Castamere.

The Lannister host arrived at Castamere three days later. Like Casterly Rock, the seat of House Reyne had begun as a mine. Rich veins of gold and silver had made the Reynes near as wealthy as the Lannisters during the Age of Heros. It was in those deep chambers that the Reynes retreated now. Feverish and weak from loss of blood, the Red Lion was in no fit state to lead so Ser Reynard assumed command as the less headstrong but more cunning of the brothers, he knew he did not have the numbers to hold the castle walls, so he abandoned the surface entirely to the foe and fell back beneath the earth. Once all his folk were safe inside the tunnels, Ser Reynard sent word to Ser Tywin above, offering terms. Tywin did not honor him with a reply. Insted he commanded that the mines be sealed and once that was done he turned his attention to the small, swift stream that fed the crystalline blue pool beside the castle from witch Castamere took its name. It took less than a day to dam the stream and only two to divert it to the nearest mine entrance.

Tywin ordered a final sweep of the castle, expecting to find nothing. To his surprise however Ser Reynard had left behind his wife, who's screams of labor could be heard echoing in the halls; no doubt Ser Reynard either thought Tywin wouldn't harm a pregnant woman or it was simply too dangerous to move her with the child on the way_. "The gods do have terrible timing"_ Tywin thought to himself as he entered the room and drew his blade, the line of Reyne would end with this child...

"Tywin!" Tygett Lannister stared at his elder brother

"I thought i told you to stay with the men?" Tywin was unfazed by his brothers presence

"You did." Tygett's hand moved slowly upon his sword. "Now i'm here, stopping you from this madness. You cannot kill a newborn for the sins of its family."

"Its a boy!" Tywin pointed at the child and it's mother

"He's innocent!" Tygett would not back down, not this time. "Father would never-"

"Father is a fool!" Tywin paused, "If we let this child live one day he will grow claws, and what then my dear brother? What happens when he grows up into a lion?"

"He'll grow up a Lannister!" Tygett knew his brother spoke the truth, but he couldn't kill a newborn child simply because he may or may not seek vengeance against his old family, a family he'd never know or love. _"He'll be one of us."_ he thought to himself and sheathed his blade.

The room was silent. "The mother must die. She would poison it against us." It was not a question, Tywin moved across the room, grabbed the child with one hand and slit the thought of it's mother with the other. She didn't cry nor fight, perhaps out of bravery or the understanding that her son would live, it mattered not, the child would be a Lannister in all but name and would never rise against it's new family.

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**Summary**

Lann Reyne, a name for a true Lannister and a constant mockery to a once proud house. He spent his youngest years as a ward of Casterly Rock, growing up under the guidance of Tygett Lannister who was given the _honor_ of being the lads protector. At the age of six Tygett named the boy his squire, mainly to get him as far away from the Rock as possible, since Tywin had inherited it with the death of Lord Tytos. Lann spent the following years under Tygett learning to master the sword, gaining his first taste of real battle against The Kingswood Brotherhood. Here our tale begins in earnest, with the early events of Lann's life and later with the story of his children.

We begin in 280 AC with the events of Lann Reyne's life. Then the main story begins in 297 AC with exploits of his children.

This is a story i've had in my head for over a year. It's long. I have moments when i desire to write this but none to write my House Soul story so i will be slowly typing up both when i have the time and drive necessary to do so. These fictions are purely for my own enjoyment, i post them here encase anyone else wishes to read them. In the case of this story i cannot find any that use House Reyne as i plan to use them, or at all, so i guess it's a little more unique than my House Soul story. I hope you enjoy.

**Ages at the beginning of 298 AC  
**Lann Reyne: Age 37 - Born 261 AC  
Tygett Reyne: Age 18 - Born 280 AC  
Arthur Reyne: Age 16 - Born 282 AC  
Ellyn Reyne: Age 13 - Born 285 AC  
Robb Hill: Age 8 - Born 290 AC


	2. Chapter 2: The Kingswood Brotherhood

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire by George RR Martin, i do however own the non-canon character(s) of this story. This is purely a work of my personal enjoyment so i ask you to not expect anything worthy of the great GRRM. I fully welcome criticism/suggestions as this is my first attempt at a fanfiction. The story will eventually be finished (i hate leaving things unfinished) but i have no real schedule. Please review as i'd love the feedback.

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**Chapter 2: The Kingswood Brotherhood**

"FOR THE KING!" Arthur Dayne reared his horse and signaled the assault. They had 100 or so mounted knights split up into three sections each led by a member of the King's Guard. Their enemy numbered around 200 if reports could be believed, but whatever the number they'd be untrained commoners and ill equipped to stand against armored knights. At Dayne's signal the charge began, taking the outlaw camp completely by surprise.

_"There can be no bravery without fear." _Lann thought to himself before adding his voice to the charge. "FOR THE KING!"

He heard a faint scream as his horse trampled over a bedroll, no doubt killing or crippling the poor bastard laying inside. Lann's eyes widened at the realization but the moment was cut short of a volley of arrows, a few striking his raised shield while the others stuck the horse, causing it to buck Lann off onto the cold forest floor below.

"Aaaarrrrhhh!" An outlaw screamed as he charged Lann with what could only be described as a _very_ worn iron sword.

The rush, the excitement, the fear. All these things and more passed into Lann's heart and out through every motion of his blade, but the moment he drew his sword deep into the chest of his first kill was the moment the reality of true battle revealed itself to him, replacing the rush with dread and the excitement with sorrow. This was not a game.

"Reyne!" Tygett's call snapped him back into focus, removing his blade from the outlaws chest. "To me lad!"

The battle raged on around him with the initial shock of killing his first man soon beginning to wear off after the third or forth kill, using the techniques taught to him by his mentor Tygett to best many an untrained outlaw, he eventually came across a young man he knew to be Jaime Lannister; they'd sparred on occasion until Lord Tywin got wind and forbade Reyne from wielding arms against his heir. Jaime acknowledged him for a split second before returning to Ser Barristan's side were he engaged with a man that was clearly touched in the head, smiling constantly as he clashed with Arthur Dayne.

_"Shit!"_ Lann thought to himself as an arrow shot past him, forcing him to raise his shield and charge the archer. Lann's archer was a bloody good shot but in the kingswood and surrounded by enemies at close range, the mans bow quickly became a disadvantage when Lann closed the gap between them. "Fucking archers." Lann spoke aloud to himself and got back to feet after having tackled the man to the ground, making quick work of him. Lann took a moment to catch his breath and survey the battle and from all accounts it seemed to be going well enough, the outlaws were clearly no match for an organized force, yet alone one lead by the Kingsguard.

"I'd prefer your sword." The smiling madman from earlier was taunting Ser Arthur Dayne, a foolish mistake in Lann's book.

"Then you shall have it." Arthur Dayne moved in for the kill. Lann stood by, admiring Dayne as he made short work of the madman known as the Smiling Knight.

Tygett walked up beside him, sword painted red with blood. "You could take him."

"Arthur?" Lann highly doubted that. "I could hold for awhile perhaps, but i doubt i'd live to tell the tale."

"Your a solid swordsmen lad, add a little self confidence and you'd be unstoppable." Tygett was only haft joking.

The battle was won with the Outlaw leadership slain, all that remained was to round up and finish off the stragglers, not to mention find Elia's handmaidens that were still captives of the Brotherhood. Lann lead the search through the eastern most camp where he noticed voices coming from the biggest tent that held the banner of House Toyne.

"Your mine bitc-" An outlaws threat, interrupted by a sword through the back of his skull.

Lann tossed the lifeless body aside and offered his free hand to the lady, no doubt one of Princess Elia's handmaidens that had been captured by the Brotherhood, otherwise known as the only reason King Aerys suddenly decided to do anything about the outlaws. "My lady." Lann forced a smile in an attempt to comfort her, "Your safe now."

"Thank you Ser." She forced a smile in return, clearly putting on a brave face.

Lann blushed, "I'm no knight my lady."

"No?" She raised an eyebrow, "Are knights not sworn to protect all women and the innocent? Your more a knight than some knights i have seen."

This was likely the first time Lann had ever gotten a compliment from somebody that was not Tygett. "You honor me my lady, may i know your name?"

"Ashara Dayne" She replied with pride and in that moment Lann felt himself blushing as he stared into her violet eyes.

"Reyne!" he barely recognized Tygett under the blood and muck.

"My lord?" Lann replied, the Dayne girl still standing beside him.

"Kneel." Tygett spoke and began reciting the words. "In the name of the Warrior I charge you to be brave." Tygett's sword moved from Lann's right shoulder to his left. "In the name of the Father I charge you to be just." Right shoulder. "In the name of the Mother I charge you to defend the young and innocent." The left. "In the name of the Maid I charge you to protect all women..."

Lann rose a knight. "See?" Ashara smiled, "You _are_ a Knight."

* * *

The battle was decisive with merely a handful of deaths on their side, mainly from those arches that Lann was beginning to truly despise. The outlaws numbers were decimated as per King Aerys orders, very few were taken captive or shown mercy. A rather small feast was held in celebration of the victory against the Brotherhood.

_"No man's gold was from them,_

_nor any maiden's hand._

_Oh, the brothers of the Kingswood,_

_that fearsome outlaw band."_

A bard sang in the corner of the room, a tune a little too kind towards the outlaws for Lann's taste. _"Why is it the dead get songs, but not the living?" _Lann thought to himself for a moment, the song reminding of his houses own song. _"Now the rains weep o'er his hall, and only a soul to hear" _The words echoed in his head, gods he hated bards.

Lann got himself up and made his way to Princess Elia's table. "Lady Ashara, would you give me the honor of a dance?"

"It's the least i can do for my savior." Lann couldn't help but think there was a jest there somewhere, but once again he lost himself in her eyes.

He had no idea how it happened or how much they drank the night before, but the two awoke in bed together. Time passed, Lann learnt that Ashara was with child and in order to spare the her dishonor the two agreed to marry, not such a daunting ideal for Lann in truth, she was beautiful and the two clearly got along. The child was a boy who Lann named Tygett in honor of his mentor and friend.


	3. Chapter 3: Tourney at Harrenhal

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire by George RR Martin, i do however own the non-canon character(s) of this story. This is purely a work of my personal enjoyment so i ask you to not expect anything worthy of the great GRRM. I fully welcome criticism/suggestions as this is my first attempt at a fanfiction. The story will eventually be finished (i hate leaving things unfinished) but i have no real schedule. Please review as i'd love the feedback.

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**Chapter 3: ****Tourney at Harrenhal**

The year is 281 AC and a great tourney is being held at Harrenhal by Lord Walter Whent in honor of his daughter and to show off the wealth of House Whent. It was to be spread over ten days and promised to be the greatest tourney of it's time. Lann, now a knight in his own right, decided to attend and try his hand at first prize.

"Reyne!" A man processed to shake Lann's hand.

"Jaime." Lann replied, "Can i expect you in the melee?"

"I'll be there. The joust too, cant have the Reynes outshining the Lannisters now can we." Jaime smiled

_"Cocky as always."_ Lann thought to himself while forcing a smile. "Your father would be livid."

"Quite. Although i expect he'll be livid regardless of the tourneys outcome." Jaimes smile faded

"Jaime?" It was odd to see Jaime so distraught

"It's nothing. Come, you've a melee to lose." The two knights continued to talk as they walked off to prepare for the first round of the melee, one of several seven-sided team based rounds that would set up the free for all elimination to determine the victor. Jaime and Lann were placed together alongside one of Lord Whents sons, Eon Hunter, Ser Haigh, Brandon Stark and a Frey lad who's name Lann didn't care to learn.

"Stay together and work as one, if we-" Lann was interrupted as Brandon Stark charged headlong against the enemy.

"Starks..." Jaime looked at Lann before following Brandons lead

_"Fuck." _Lann thought to himself before joining Jaime in the charge. _"So much for teamwork."_

Lann stuck close to Jaime as they each engaged targets, while Stark was off ahead fighting two men at once. Lann continued focusing on his own target, a large man, he opted for wearing him down; Tygett had once taught him that every opponent had a weakness be it his strength or his pride, a strong man is slow when a prideful one is easily taunted. _"Lets see what kind of man you are."_ Lann thought. "Is that all you've got? You hit like a woman!" Lann taunted him, a lie in truth but if it made the man angry it would make him reckless.

The mans face turned red as he raised his hammer and charged. "Aaaarrrrhhh!"

Lann tossed sand into the mans visor then stepped aside, evading the charge and tripping his disoriented foe, sending him face first into the dirt.

"Yield." Lann spoke with pride, his blade pointed at his enemies neck. He ignored the few shouts of disapproval from the stands.

"I yield." The mans eyes burnt with a fury as he grumbled something along the lines of "Lannister bastard" but Lann helped him up all the same.

Jaime had defeated his own man and Lann noticed King Aerys laughing hysterically at Lann's tactic with the sand. The Whent boy was on his back, having been easily defeated. Brandon Stark stood victorious although his blind charge had not helped matters. _"He'd be a much better swordsmen if he was not so bloody reckless." _Lann thought to himself for a moment, his attention now turning to the Frey lad who had survived this long purely because he'd remained back when Brandon, Jaime and He all charged in. Frey was disarmed and about to be defeated by his attacker.

"Frey." Lann looked at the lad, around ten-and-seven by his count, older than Jaime by a few years but far from his equal.

"He's mine!" Freys attacker bellowed from beneath his helm.

"He didn't yield." Lann studied the man, he'd be an easier foe than his previous. "If you want him, come and get him!"

The two knights clashed but not for long. Lann suffered the odd glancing blow from the mans great-sword but ultimately he was easily defeated, leaving him on his knees where he yielded. Lann turned to leave the victor but unbeknownst to him his defeated foe was not quite finished, wielding a dagger in a mad rage the knight pushed the Frey boy to the ground, stabbing him repeatedly.

"Will he live?." Lann spoke to the maester.

"His wounds are deep." The maester, who's name escaped Lann, continued to see to the boys wounds.

Jaime entered the tent. "He's a better chance that his attacker."

"Where is he?" Lann asked, hoping the bastard was dead or at least in great pain.

"Dead. You did cut off the mans arm." Jaime replied with a slight smile that faded quickly. "Unfortunately i also wont be in the finals."

"What?" Lann was curios as to what Jaime had done to get kicked out of the melee.

"I accepted the honor of joining the Kings Guard." Jaime chuckled, clearing not too happy despite the apparent honor. "I'm off to guard the queen at the capital."

Lann and Jaime left the tent and allowed the maester to continue his work. "You father is going to kill you."

"He can try." Jaime replied coldly. "If i refused i have no doubt the King would have beaten him to it."

Lann laughed. "You shouldn't worry about your father. I think you'll be the youngest ever member of the order, quite the accomplishment."

"If you say so." Jaime sighed, "I need to get fitted for my white cloak. Best of luck to you in the final Reyne."

"And to you with the King." Lann and Jaime said their goodbyes as Jaime prepared for his first duties as the newest member of the Kings Guard while Lann prepared himself for the finals of the melee that, oddly enough, would be that much easier without Jaime trying to prove himself. _"An odd blessing i suppose." _Lann thought to himself in the moment, although in truth he had been looking forward to teaching the young Lannister a lesson. Brandon Stark and Yohn Royce were the only two finalists that Lann knew by name, the forth wearing the arms of House Blount. The victors purse was a sum of 8,000 gold dragons with the jousts being a kingly 10,000; House Whent had truly outdone themselves.

Lann entered the ring and the final round began with Stark rushing to engage Blount while Lann clashed with Royce, having the advantage of age on his side against the Lord of Runestone. _"I need to finish this!__"_ Lann thought as he pushed his advantage against Royce, cautiously keeping an eye on Stark who was making quick work of his foe.

_"I'm sorry about this my lord." _Lann used all his strength to disarm Royce and kick his sword across the ground, forcing him to yield.

"Stark!" Lann screamed, pointing his sword at the wolf, taunting him into a charge and attempting to replicate a previous move of his. It failed as Stark raised his shield, taking Reyne by surprise and knocking him aside. _"Wheres my sword?, wheres my sword?, WHERES MY FUCKING SWORD?!"_

"Looking for this?" Brandon Stark began to gloat as he held Reynes blade in his left hand, having dropped his shield. "Do you yield?"

Lann looks desperately for something, anything that would save him. "Never!" Lann smiled and Brandon swung, his victory cut short as Lann grabbed his enemies discarded shield and put it between himself and the wolfs bite, following up the move with a sweep of his legs and a trading of places. Brandon Stark was in the dirt.

"Do _you_ yield?" Lann had tossed the shield far aside and was now wielding both swords, unlike Brandon he minded his footing.

Stark smiled and got to his feet. "Well fought Reyne. I yield." The stands erupted with cheer and Lann was declared the champion of the melee, earning his gold that would later go towards his planned restoration of Castamere. He entered the lists shortly afterwards with hopes of earning more gold but alas Lann was a better swordsman than jouster and found himself bested by Arthur Dayne in the early rounds. Lann left Harrenhal content that his 8,000 along with his other savings, would be more than enough to hire workers and begin work on rebuilding Castamere to it's former glory.

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Castamere, the home of his forefathers, was the fucking ruin. Lann first laid eyes on it shortly after his son Tygett was born and he spent most of the following weeks discussing the restoration with Lord Tywin, who to put it bluntly, was not happy with the plans but ultimately agreed to allow it under the condition that Lann fund it himself. Unknown to Tywin however, Lann's mentor Tygett had offered his assistance in form of labor and the first major task was grim one , draining the mine then collecting the bones and finally putting them to rest. In the end a large graveyard was raised to house the bones of all those who drowned during the rebellion.

"It'll be done soon." Lann spoke over the grave of his father, a man he didn't know, but Tygett had identified his bones thanks to a ruby signet ring that Lann now wore. "In a year or two our home will be rebuilt and i swear House Reyne will grow back it's claws, longer and sharper than ever before." Lann smiled as he looked down at his son Tygett who was standing by his side. _"And perhaps one day my son will do what i cannot." _Lann thought in silence as he looked over the graves.

Lann returned to Castamere after Harrenhal to be with his wife, who was pregnant and due any day; He was worried he wouldn't return in time to see his new child into the world. Unlike his brother Tygett, who was the spitting image of his father with his golden hair and dark brown eyes, this babe had his mothers violet eyes. Ashara named the boy Arthur Reyne and swore he'd outshine her own brother someday. It was barely a day later when word of Lyanna Starks abduction reach Lann's ears.


	4. Chapter 4: The Rebellions

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire by George RR Martin, i do however own the non-canon character(s) of this story. This is purely a work of my personal enjoyment so i ask you to not expect anything worthy of the great GRRM. I fully welcome criticism/suggestions as this is my first attempt at a fanfiction. The story will eventually be finished (i hate leaving things unfinished) but i have no real schedule. Please review as i'd love the feedback.

* * *

**Chapter 4: ****The Rebellions**

Prince Rhaegar had kidnapped Lyanna Stark, or so rebels claimed. Lann had a hard time believing the crown prince, known for being honorable and noble, would take the girl against her will even if he had named her queen of love and beauty at the tourney. Whatever the truth the great houses of Baratheon, Stark, Arryn and Tully had risen in open revolt against the crown while Lord Tywin and the West sat patiently for the first few weeks of the war and for this Lann was grateful, it gave him time to spend with his family.

"Open the gates!" A man yelled from the battlements and the gates to King's Landing swung wide open.

_"Idiots." _Lann though to himself as the Lannister host entered the city, not to help the Targaryens, but to put the final nail in their coffin. Chaos followed as the Goldcloaks were slaughtered by the far larger Western forces that made their way through the city house by house, looting and raping as they went. Lann and a handful of his household guard headed directly for the Red Keep and King Aery's head.

"Jaime?" Lann lowered his sword at the Lannister, his own golden sword covered in King Aery's blood as the King himself laid lifeless on the steps of the Iron Throne.

"Lann." Jaime greeted his fellow lion, stepping over King Aery's corpse to do so. "I had hoped to introduce you to the King next we met but i envisioned something less-"

"You killed your King?" Lann interrupted

"He commanded me to bring him fathers head." Jaime sheathed his blade

"You swore a vow Jaime!" Lann kept his blade out, his guards flanking him. "We both know the man was insane but-"

Jaime's hand found itself on the pommel of his blade, noting that Reyne still had his out. "Your fucking right he was insane. You'd be taking a city of ash if it wasn't for me."

Lann sighed and sheathed his blade, signaling his guards to do the same. "Care to explain?"

"Burn them all." Jaime repeated the words a number of times. "He kept repeating those words. Ordering his pyromancer to ignite wildfire throughout the city, saying, Let him be king over charred bones and cooked meat. Let him be the king of ashes." Jaime stared at Lann for a moment before moving up to the Iron Throne and taking a seat. "I had to do it."

When Eddard Stark entered the throne room Jaime was still sat on the throne while Lann stood at the base of the steps, with King Aerys crown in his hands. The rebellion was over and the Targaryen dynasty ended short of a few members that fled across the narrow sea, but the Iron Throne now belonged to Robert of House Baratheon. Peace reigned for almost eleven years before Balon Greyjoy rose up in rebellion against the crown, a mistake he would quickly come to regret.

* * *

The Greyjoy Rebellion began as Balon Greyjoy rose in open rebellion against the crown, believing that the lords of Westeros were less than content with Robert Baratheon's rule and would not not come to his aid. This was a mistake as all of Westeros answered the call of their king, Lord Stannis Baratheon along with Lord Paxter Redwyne and other lords of the Reach were able to catch and smash the Iron Fleet, captained by Victarion Greyjoy, in a significant battle off the coast of Fair Isle. This allowed Robert's forces to cross to the Iron Islands as Lann followed Ser Barristan Selmy against the island of Old Wyk.

"My Lord, are we not joining King Robert at Pyke?" The captain of Lann's galley spoke, slightly confused at the sudden change of plan.

"King Robert can deal with Lord Balon." Lann continued to stare at the small island on the horizon. "I have business with Lord Drumm."

Old Wyk was lightly defended to say the least, with the might of the Isles being their fleet and most of them had been sunk or captured already. Lann stood at the bow of the galley named The Red Lion, as it approached it's landing and the ironborn scum awaiting ashore. "Victory is already ours lads, all that remains is to teach them a final lesson!" Lann drew his steel and pointed it at the enemy and screamed, "OUR CLAWS ARE SHARP!" The Red Lion crashed ashore ahead of the rest of the fleet as Lann and his men disembarked and began to charge the enemy line, shields raised to avoid the first volley of arrows. "WHAT IS DEAD WILL FUCKING STAY DEAD!" Lann screamed as their shield wall broke, clashing with the enemy lines. Lann's men cut into the enemy like a hot knife through butter as Lann and his personal guard cut their way to the small line of archers, aiming to remove them from the field and save the rest of the fleet, that had just disembarked, from another volley of arrows. Lann drove his sword into the chest of the first then cut down another, and another, and another while his guards did the same to the shocked archers, who had only their bows and daggers to defend themselves against fulled armored knights. They didn't stand a chance.

"Run them do-" Lann was interrupted as one of the fleeing archers drew his bow and let loose, nailing Lann in the shoulder.

Lann pulled the arrow out with a grunt of pain. "Bring me that bastards head!"

"M'lord!" One of Lann's guards rushed to inspect his lord. "You should leave the field m'lord, this needs to be seen to."

"I'm fine." Lann waved off the guard and commanded him to return to the battle, that in all truth seemed won. His charge on the archers had made it that much easier for Ser Barristan to join up with Lann's forces fighting the main line of ironborn who had suffered a large blow to moral from Lann's push alone and had lost all hope when Barristan joined the fight. _"I fucking hate archers."_ Lann thought to himself as he looked at his wound, it was sore but the arrow had come out clean.

"LANN!" His men began chanting as Lann stood slightly elevated over them, where the archers once stood.

"LONGCLAWS!" Another cheered. "LANN LONGCLAWS!" The nickname stuck as his own men and many others began chanting it, although the war was not yet won his actions or perhaps his recklessness, had saved many lives. Lann smiled and lifted his sword in the arm to keep spirits high, then continued to his still unresolved business.

"It's ours!" Donnel Drumm all but screamed, a lion had invaded his home, tied up his family and now stood before them holding their family blade. "We paid the i-" Donnel made another attempt to scream at his captive but soon began choking on his own blood as Lann slit his through with Red Rain, the long lost blade of House Reyne.

"My son!" Lord Dunstan Drumm cried out as Lann knelt before the ironborn lord and looked him in the eyes.

"A debt repaid." Lann sheathed Red Rain.

Lord Dunstan stared at his sons killer with a mix of rage and confusion. "What debt!?"

Lann smiled, glad he asked. "A Drumm killed a Reyne and stole his sword, now a Reyne kills a Drumm and takes back his sword. The debt is repaid."

The Greyjoy Rebellion failed and Lann fully expected King Robert to make another island of the ironborns skulls, but for whatever reason he showed Lord Balon mercy and allowed him to live, although he did steal the mans only living son from him. Lann returned to Castamere with his business concluded and his men song a song as they sailed home. These men were no poets but Lann couldn't help but join in with them, the knowledge of returning to his children filling him with joy.

_"The Ironborns plea was as dull as his wife,_

_and his looks were non too great either._

_But the Lions blade was made of red steel,_

_and its kiss was a terrible thing._

_The Ironborns son cried as he begged,_

_in a voice that made us all cringe,_

_But the Lions blade had a cry of its own,_

_and a long claw of valyrian steel._

_As he lay on the ground with the darkness around,_

_and the taste of his blood on his tongue,_

_His father knelt by him and prayed him a prayer,_

_and he cried and he begged and he wept,_

_"Father, oh father, my days here are done,_

_the Lion has taken my life,_

_But what does it matter, for what's dead may not die,_

_and I've paid the iron price!"_

* * *

Lann returned home to Castamere and after a few weeks found himself back in the graveyard. _"I'm sorry."_ Lann through to himself in silence.

"Father?" Young Tygett approached with his little sister Ellya in tow.

"Princess." Lann smiled as he went to one knee and embraced his only daughter. "Where is Arthur?"

"I don't know." Ellya smiled.

"He's in the yard pestering Ser Tion." Tygett replied with a grin. "Mother always said he'd outshine us all one day."

Lann was hardly surprised as the one thing Arthur loved more than his mother was the idea of becoming the next Sword of Morning, and his mother often encouraged his training despite the lads young age, now only seven, but Lann was deeply proud of the boy. "I'll bring him to pay his respects later." Lann sighed.

"Did i kill her father?" Ellya's smile faded

"What?" Lann became wide-eyed. "Who gave you that idea?"

"I heard some of the stable boys-" Lann interrupted her quickly

"Your mother loved you more than life Ellya." His gaze returned to Ashara's grave for a moment before returning to hug his daughter. "She lives on in you little princess and we're all the better for it." Ellya began to smile again and Lann sent her back to her room, escorted by her big brother. _"I'm sorry." _Lann repeated as he reminded himself of the sin he had committed a few days prior when in his sorrow he found his way into the arms of a common whore, days before the anniversary of Ashara's death.


	5. Chapter 5: A Different Coat

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire by George RR Martin, i do however own the non-canon character(s) of this story. This is purely a work of my personal enjoyment so i ask you to not expect anything worthy of the great GRRM. I fully welcome criticism/suggestions as this is my first attempt at a fanfiction. The story will eventually be finished (i hate leaving things unfinished) but i have no real schedule. Please review as i'd love the feedback.

* * *

**Chapter 5: A ****Different Coat**

"Tygett!" Robb Hill jumped to his feet and cheered as his brother broke a lance against his opponent.

"Sit down!" His sister commanded, "Gods your embarrassing sometimes."

Robb turned to look at his father who nodded in confirmation of the command, causing the Black Lion of Castamere to sit, arms folded and head down as he muttered to himself. Tygett meanwhile came around for another run and this time unhorsed his opponent, sending him flying and subsequently causing Robb to once again rise with a triumphant cheer before taking note of his sisters eyes, staring at him with a fury.

"Sit." Ellyn spoke slowly, "Now." Robb obeyed and returned to his sulking.

"Leave the lad alone Elly." Arthur turned her notice towards the royal stand. "If the King can make an arse of himself our bastard brother can surely-"

"King Robert is drunk." Ellyn spoke rather matter-of-factly

Arthur smiled. "Here that little brother? We just need to get you drunk."

"You cant be serious?" Ellyn replied, her fury now directed at Arthur rather than Robb.

"Are you accusing me of a jest sweet sister?" Arthur faked a look of shock. "Although i don't imagine the task would be too difficult..."

"I could get drunk!" Robb jumped up from his seat again, accepting his brothers challenge with pride.

"Hear that?" Arthur began to laugh at the idea of a drunken eight year old.

Lord Lann joined his sons laughter. "Your too young for that Robb. Sit back down and when the jousts over i'll bet Tygett will spar with you again."

In truth their _sparring_ was just Tygett teaching the boy to hold a sword effectively, often letting the boy strike him in practice. Robb Hill was a bastard sure enough but he was a loved one even though Ellyn could be overbearing at times; especially in public. The tourney went on for awhile until the final joust come about.

"Can Tygett beat him father?" Arthur asked as he eyed his brothers opponent.

"Nobody can beat Tygett!" Robb once again jumped from his seat and cheered his brothers name, waving as he yelled. "Tygett!"

Lann smiled at the sight before answering his sons question. "Ser Jaime is skilled, but your brother was a squire under Ser Barristan for many years," Lann paused a moment to recall the day Tygett was knighted by his mentor, he'd never been prouder of the lad than the day he was knighted by one of the best swords in the realm. The third pass was the moment when both riders struck gold, or red in Tygetts case as both He and Jaime fell from their horses at the same time. The crowed as silent, unsure of who fell first or what was to be done in the event of a draw; even the king seemed to have a blank expression although perhaps that was the drinks doing.

"Ser Jaime!" Tygett shouted at his opponent, holding his blade in the air and challenging him to a melee to decide the victor.

Jaime grinned rather devilishly, no doubt quite confident that he'd win. "Ser Tygett!" He shouted in response and drew his golden sword.

Steel kissed steel as the two knights engaged. Tygett had squired under Ser Barristan for years and was knighted by the man barely a year ago. The Kingslayer had experience on his side no doubt, but Tygett had skill of his own although had never sparred with the man before and as such was counting on Jaime underestimating him.

"Your good." Tygett grinned at the realization that the tales of the Kingslayers skill at arms were not mere tales, paid for with his fathers gold.

"Was there ever any doubt?" Jaime replied as the two returned to focus, locking steel for a mere moment before Jaime continued to push his advantage.

It seemed that Jaime had the upper hand, pushing Tygett further and further. Tygett however continued to hold his defense, waiting for his opponent to make a error that in truth he was beginning to think would never come. Then Jaime lunged wide and recalling what Barristan taught him Tygett quickly moved his sword to parry, but then took a step closer and brought his sword up, warped it around Jaimes then slid down the outside of his blade, jerking his own sword inward causing Jaimes sword to fly out of his hand.

"Barristan taught you well." Jaime spoke after a moment of silence, no doubt kicking himself for underestimating his foe. _"In a real fight, i'd have skewered you with my dagger by now."_ Jaime thought to himself but put on a smile and shook the hand of his old friends son. _"Don't get too cocky now, my sister is watching."_ Jaime thought as he eyed the Queen in the stands next to King Robert, who was laughing hysterically at Jaimes alleged defeat.

* * *

Tygett had won the day, hailed as the 'Kingslayer Slayer' by the crowed although the title originally originated from the drunken jests of King Robert. A grand feast was held after the joust with Tygett and his family as the honored guests of the King; forcing the Red lions to sit rather dangerously close to the Golden ones on the Kings Table.

King Robert rose from his seat to begin the feast. "To the Kingslayer Slayer!" He bellowed, raising a mug to the young knight.

"Your son did well Lord Reyne." In this moment Lann sent a silent curse to the gods, why in the seven hell's he'd been seated next to- "Few can hope to match my brothers skill yet alone live to tell the tale." Cersei Lannister, the bitch queen of the seven kingdoms. In public the lions played nice but ever since Tygett Lannister died of pox relations with Casterly Rock had been strained to say the least.

_"Few can hope to match him? I do believe Tygett won." _Lann thought to himself and put on a fake smile to match the queens own. "He was taught by the best."

"As was my brother." The bitch replied and sipped her wine.

"Yes." Lann's fake smile turned into a true one as he thought of a comeback. "I tried my best."

The Queen no doubt wanted to claw his eyes out and Lann almost wanted to see her try it. "You _were_ taught by a Lannister and raised by one too, small wonder your son inherit those skills." A statement that was no doubt meant as an insult, but Lann had only warm feelings towards his departed mentor Tygett.

"I named my eldest in Tygett's honor." Lann paused, "It warms my heart that he's grown more than worthy of that honor."

The bitch took another sip of wine and somehow every act this woman made managed to annoy him. _This_ is why he avoided the capital. "Speaking of honors." The Queen whispered something in her husbands ear, the act catching the attention of Lann who understood that whatever poison she was spilling into the Kings ears, was most likely bad news.

"Attention!" King Robert took a mightily gulp of his drink before continuing, say what you like about the man he could hold his liquor. "Tygett Reyne!"

Tygett rose, "Your grace?" Lann noticed the Queen's grin of satisfaction at this point and it sent a chill down his spine.

"My wife suggests and I agree that your skills are needed here." Robert took another gulp, "With the sudden death of Greenfield we've a spot in the Kingsguard and you my lad shall fill it!" At this Tygett fell to his knees and began to think of ways to respectfully decline, while Lann stared at the Queen and thought of ways to kill her and get away with it without causing a war.

"Your grace. I am the Heir to Castamere. I cannot-" Robert interrupted him

"You've a more than capable brother do you not?" Robert awaited the answer and ignored Arthur Reyne, who bursted into laughter.

"I- I am not worthy of the honor." Tygett knew that wouldn't work but he was out of ideas.

King Robert laughed as expected. "Ser Barristan tells me a different story. I need a sword i can trust, one able to keep the Kingslayer in check!"

"Ser Barristan-" Tygett was interrupted again and lost any hope of getting out of this without a new cloak.

"Swore his oath to the Targaryens." Robert was beginning to lose what little patients he had left. "You however are not tainted by their filth."

Tygett wanted to scream and defend his mentors name, but it was hopeless. "I understand your grace. It would be my honor to serve on your Kingsguard."

_"Why?"_ Lann thought as he stared at Cersei who was in turn smiling happily at her success. _"Is this some desperate attempt to humble us? Did Tywin put you up to this or is it purely because my son beat your brother?"_ Lann couldn't blame Tygett for accepting the position, to refuse the King even when he was drunk would be seen as a great insult but naturally Cersei knew that. _"History repeats itself."_ Lann looked to Arthur who was now deep in his cups. _"Jaime is dragged into the order as a slight to his father and now Tygett suffers the same fate."_

"Ser Tygett of the Kingsguard!" King Robert cheered and Tygett found himself surrounded by his new brothers, all congratulating him.

"The White Lion!" Arthur cheered, a mix of happy and disappointed. It was his dream to join the Kingsguard and that dream was now crushed into tiny shards.

Arthur continued to drink his worries away while his sister was all too aware of the hidden insult behind this alleged honor and Robb Hill was oblivious, having begun his quest to prove to his brother that he could indeed get drunk. Lann meanwhile left the hall in search of his previous heir who had left to get fitted with his new cloak.

* * *

"You look good in White." Lann spoke the truth, his former heir was well suited to his new armor. "A moment if you don't mind Ser Barristan?"

"Of course Lord Reyne." Barristan gave a nod before returning into the main hall.

"I'm sorry father." Tygett fell to his knees before his father, "I failed. I couldn't-"

"Rise my boy, you kneel to the King and nobody else." Lann looked at his son and found himself smiling. He looked a true knight.

"Your not angry?" Tygett was shocked, having expected to he disowned and shamed. At the least he expected his father to shout in protest.

"You are my son." Lann sighed, "In a coat of red or a coat of white, you shall always be my son." Tygett embraced his father before Lann removed his fathers signet ring and handed it to his eldest. "This was my fathers. Now it's yours, so that you never forget who you are." Lann was truly proud, in this moment the feeling overwhelmed the feelings of hate and vengeance he felt towards the Lannisters for their part in this.

"I'll make you proud." Tygett returned his fathers smile.

"You've already done that a hundred times over my boy." Lann vowed in that moment that Cersei Lannister would look back on this day during her final moments and she would curse herself. A day will come when Casterly Rock falls to ruin as payment for her sins, beyond counting that they are. _"That brother-fucking bitch will pay."_


	6. Chapter 6: Curiosity

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire by George RR Martin, i do however own the non-canon character(s) of this story. This is purely a work of my personal enjoyment so i ask you to not expect anything worthy of the great GRRM. I fully welcome criticism/suggestions as this is my first attempt at a fanfiction. The story will eventually be finished (i hate leaving things unfinished) but i have no real schedule. Please review as i'd love the feedback.

* * *

Notes: This chapter was not planned. I wrote an entirely different chapter 6 that will now become chapter 7 since i felt i should build more on Tygett's time in Winterfell and mainly his friendly relations with Arya. For those wondering, no, there's no romance since Arya is 9 and Tygett is 18. Get your head outta the gutter!

* * *

**Chapter 6: C****uriosity**

The Godswood of Winterfell was normally a peaceful place, this night however the sound of steel clashing against steel echoed though the trees like some queer melody as two white knights fought furiously, matching blow for blow as they danced back and fourth while a small wolf watched from behind a tree.

"It seems we have an audience." Jaime lowered his sword.

Tygett lowered his own sword and turned to see whom he was referring to, keeping on eye on Jaime encase this was some distraction meant to get the better of him. "Show yourself." Tygett raised his sword, pointed firmly at the tree their witness was attempting to hide behind. "You-"

Jaime grinned as he sheathed his sword. "A little late out for such a little wolf, is it not?"

"Arya Stark." Tygett sheathed his own sword, remembering in that moment that the youngest Stark girl had a dislike of being called a lady. She actually showed a great annoyance at the title. "Ser Jaime is correct no doubt, should'n't you be abed at this hour?" It was almost dark out. He and Jaime practice this late for a reason; to avoid Cersei playing judge and executioner whenever Tygett got the upper hand on her brother.

The wolf girl merely stared at them, raising an eyebrow. "I could ask you the same question."

Tygett smiled, finding the girls spirit amusing. Jaime however was less impressed. "We are lions. Lions don't need rest."

"Liar." Arya replied, seemingly prepared to flee from the lions at a moments notice.

Tygett burst into laughter. "She's got you there Jaime." He paused a moment to try and read the little wolf. "You are a curious one, little wolf." Arya smiled in reply, seeming to take it as a complement wherever or not the lion meant it as one. Tygett found he quite enjoyed the youngest Stark girl, she reminded him of his sister, although Ellyn would never be caught without a fancy dress or in the woods watching knights spar for that matter; the girls rebellious nature had a resemblance however.

"Curiosity killed the wolf." Jaime spoke and Arya rolled her eyes at him.

"Indeed. You've too much of your aunt in you." Tygett had made the connection before, from what little he'd learned of Lyanna Stark from his father.

"You knew my aunt?" Arya doubt it, the lion didn't look old enough.

"My father spoke with her at Harrenhal before the rebellion." He could use this to make her comply. "Let me escort you back to your room and i'll tell you about her."

She sighed, "Alright."

"Remember your vows Ser Tygett!" Jaime yelled as they began walking back to the castle

Arthur ignored him, feeling sick at the mere idea. An idea that had made the young girl clearly uneasy about walking with the lion. "Don't listen to the Kingslayer, when he killed the Mad King my father says he drank some of his blood, hasn't been the same since. Now, i promised to tell you of your aunt?"

"Yes." She replied, keeping her distance ever since Jaime's remark.

"My father met her and your grandfather at Harrenhal." Tygett began his tale. "I was barely two when i met her there and i was far too shy to speak."

The wolf raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "_You_ were shy?"

"Don't sound so surprised. I was young and at the time i thought she was the most beautiful thing i'd ever seen, besides my own mother, but i had little trouble constantly asking _her_ questions, she used to say i talk too much for my own good." Tygett sighed, he missed his mother more than mere words could express. "You have her hair."

"Your mothers?" Arya asked sincerely, a hint of fear in her eyes for some reason.

"Your aunts." He laughed, "Why would you have my mothers hair?"

"I have the same hair as my brother Jon. I thought perhaps-"

"That perhaps you were a bastard too?" Tygett guessed, he'd met Jon Snow briefly when Jaime had been taunting the boy during the feast. It insulted him a little to think of his mother being with anyone but his father, but the thought passed quickly. "Don't be ridiculous. Your hair is a Stark feature little wolf, if anything it proves your more Stark than your other siblings."

It seemed to cheer the girl up, although strangely she seemed a little disappointed too. "Do all your siblings look alike?"

"My brother Arthur has our mothers violet eyes, constantly lording them over us like he's a Targaryen Prince." Tygett smiled, "We'd always point out that he's got the same dirty-gold hair as the rest of us, a difference our father says puts us apart from the pure-gold Lannisters." The Lannisters trademark was their flowing golden hair, but the Reynes tended to favor a far darker shade of gold that the Lannisters once called dirty-gold as an insult, so at some point in history a Reyne embraced it as an honor, ceasing the use of the word as an insult in the doing. After all what's the point in the an insult if it's not insulting?

"I can make it to my room from here." Arya stopped in her tracks.

Tygett was skeptical that she'd actually go to her room and not just run off again. "Swear on your honor, Arya Stark."

She looked like she'd simply ignore him and bolt at a moment. "I swear."

"I've the word of a Stark then?" Tygett asked and the girl gave a nod. "Goodnight then, little wolf."

Tygett returned to the chambers he'd been granted, small, but he considered himself lucky all the same. It was likely due to his previous position as Heir to Castamere that made Lord Stark give him a room separate to the arrangements made for the others in the royal party. Without dwelling on it for too long he headed to bed, he would be riding back to his _beloved_ capital in the morning and he'd need to be rested. He knew all too well that his father would have plans for Lord Stark when he arrived.


	7. Chapter 7: Long and Sharp

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire by George RR Martin, i do however own the non-canon character(s) of this story. This is purely a work of my personal enjoyment so i ask you to not expect anything worthy of the great GRRM. I fully welcome criticism/suggestions as this is my first attempt at a fanfiction. The story will eventually be finished (i hate leaving things unfinished) but i have no real schedule. Please review as i'd love the feedback.

* * *

Notes: Here is where the story beings in earnest with Lann's background out of the way we can begin with the main story. For those wondering about the length of my chapters i tend to shoot for around 2k+ words per chapter and if i did anything longer you'd be waiting a good 2-3 months between each chapter. :)

* * *

**Chapter 7: Long and Sharp**

Lord Lann rode through the woods with his son and a hundred or so knights, the red lion of Castamere flying proudly as they went towards the castle of Darry where Lann planned to meet with King Robert. "You lost boy?" Arthur paused, having dismounted and made his way to some bushes where he noticed a figure attempting to remain hidden. The lad was young and had a handful of berries, seemingly putting on a brave face to hide his fear.

"No." The boy replied, bravely starring at Arthur despite him now being flanked by three knights that had rode up beside him.

Arthur smiled at the sight. "No need to be afraid lad. We're-"

"I'm not afraid of you Lannister!" Arthur was interrupted

"You wound me." Arthur's smile had disappeared. "I am _not_ a Lannister."

The boy merely continued to stare at his haunting violet eyes and the knights banners, likely taking into account the lack of gold; those were not Lannister colors.

"You-" A shout interrupted the boys reply

"M'lord!" Another knight rode up to Arthur, making the boy uneasy until he sighted the Stark banner close behind.

"Lady Stark!" The man who'd announced himself to the Reyne host as one Jory Cassel let out a sigh of relief in that moment. "Come. We must return you to your father."

The wolfs eyes lit up when Arthur gave a nod, allowing his knights to remain at ease. "You'll travel with us Cassel. Safety in numbers and all." Jory accepted, not that he had a choice in the matter, having only a handful of swords with him compared to the large company of lions that he was to travel with to Darry. It was a short ride to Darry where the banners of Red and Gold merged. Arthur and Lann dismounted and moved to escort young Arya to her father.

"Brother!" Arthur found himself embracing his elder brother, dressed all in white. "I still say white would've suited me better."

"In a coat of Red or a coat of White." Tygett smiled, "A lion still has claws."

"Long and Sharp." Arthur spoke the words of his house

"Long and Sharp." Tygett echoed them with pride and a hint of sadness as he thought to himself behind a smile. _"It should be you in the white"_

"Son." Lann gave his eldest a quick hug. "What's this business with the Stark girl?" Arya was lead away by Lannister guards while the Reyne's spoke among themselves.

"Joffrey claims she and some boy attacked him with clubs and set a wolf on him." Tygett sighed, "He has a minor wound from the wolves bite, but it will heal."

"He was bested by a girl?" Arthur had a little chuckle as he envisioned the epic struggle in his head.

"He's full of shit. If the beast wished to to kill him he'd be dead already, and the boy has no marks from any alleged clubs." Arthur shook his head, sighing as if tired of hearing the utterly pathetic tale. As Kingsguard he was sworn to protect the royal family but Joffrey was not of royal blood and as such, he couldn't care less about him.

"The Queen will call for the girls head." Lann spoke, "We cannot afford Stark returning North over this."

"She'll not get it. Robert loves Stark like a brother." Tygett replied matter-of-factly, confident that Robert would never have a girl executed yet alone a Stark girl.

"Speaking of the wolf." Lann broke away from his sons to intercepted a clearly furious northern lord. "Lord Stark. A word if you please."

"Lord Reyne." Eddard Stark paused, "I'm afraid this will have to wait."

"I found the girl my lord. I suggest you hear us out." Arthur flanked his father and said his peace on the matter, informing Lord Stark of the rather long-winded story put against his daughter. "The prince is a bad liar. Point out to the King the fact that he's no marks from his beating."

"Not to mention, ask where they got the clubs and how they vanished." Tygett added for effect. "I'll walk with you my lord."

Lord Stark gave a nod before continuing towards the great hall with his guards and Tygett in tow. Lann and Arthur meanwhile continued to talk once the Lannister guards had dispersed, leaving them alone in the Darry courtyard. "We could just tell King Robert." Arthur voiced his ill-thought suggestion.

"He'd never believe it coming from us." Lann replied, if only things were that simple.

"It could have come from Lord Arryn." Arthur stated as if his father was not already aware of the fact.

"Cersei moved quicker than i anticipated." Lann paused a moment in regret, "We'll need to be more vigilant with Stark." Jon Arryn's death was a set back to say the least, now all hope fell into the lap of the honorable Lord Eddard Stark and if the mans reputation did him credit he'd be even harder to deal with than Arryn.

"I fear war is inevitable." Arthur's hand rested on the pommel of his sword, ready to use it at a moments notice.

"Its is. That is why we must be prepared." Lann took a second to ensure nobody was watching them. "The alliances are going according to plan." House Kenning had agreed upon a union between Arthur and Lelia Kenning, putting aside a potential match the girl had with some knight from a minor family who's name Lann never cared to learn; it was not important as Arthur had already make quick work of said knight when he challenged him for Lelia's hand.

Arthur shifted uncomfortably at the mention of his new wife. "What happened to the Westerling girl?"

"The Crag is too weak to be of any use lad." Lann kept his voice shushed, he knew his son had no desire to wed but he had done so out of duty.

"What of Elly?" Arthur replied, "Is my sweet sister still to be used in this grand scheme?"

"Lord Sarsfield has agreed to a match with his eldest." Lann's voice turned rather stern for a moment, causing Arthur to take the hint. This was happening. You cannot stop it. Just accept it. So Arthur sighed and ceased questioning the matter, he'd live content in the knowledge that if Sarsfield hurt his sister he'd kill the bastard, alliance or no alliance. In truth he liked his wife, she was cute enough and kind spirited but Arthur didn't love her, the marriage was purely for the 'greater good' as his father put it.

Meanwhile inside the keep. "Liar!" Arya Stark screamed and moved to lunge at her sister, halted by Tygett placing a hand on her shoulder. Arya looked up at the lion ready to shout in protest but merely stared in silence, his almost black-brown eyes staring down at her as if to say _"No." _She turned her furious gaze towards her sister.

"She's as wild as that animal of hers." Cersei spoke, still intent on punishment. Tygett stood in silence next to the young Stark girl hoping his presence would keep her from doing something stupid; although a small part of him wished to see what she'd do if given free reign. "We have another wolf." The Queen replied to something Robert said.

The King sighed at the hole situation, leaving the hall as Sansa Stark began to beg for the life of her pet, who was quite clearly innocent, not that it mattered to the Queen; she wanted to send a message. Tygett found himself once again disappointed in his king. House Reyne held little value in blind honor but to condemn an innocent for the crimes of the guilty was simply low, cowardly even. _"I swore to protect a man who dose not understand justice."_ The thought made Tygett sick.

* * *

"You have my sympathies Lord Stark, for what little that's worth." Lann walked up behind Eddard Stark, who was standing over the lifeless body of his daughters direwolf. "She was a beautiful beast, it's truly a shame." Lann's words were hollow in truth, such an injustice being allowed was all too common and failed to surprise him in the slightest.

"The man i knew wouldn't have allowed this." Lord Stark replied, unsure if it was wise to speak too openly with a bannerman of the Lannisters.

"I grew up at Casterly Rock as a hostage in all but name." A slight grin escaped Lann for a moment. "Trust me when i say that Cersei Lannister was a spoiled bitch long before she became Queen. Her new position has done nothing to improve her personality." The look of shock on Starks face would've been hilarious if not for the concern that he wouldn't last two weeks in the capital being so naive.

"She is the Queen." Eddard replied, the shock replaced by a concern at being overheard.

"She is the Queen." Lann echoed the lie. "She is also child playing at a game she believes she to have mastered."

"Whatever my feelings towards her grace, such talk could be considered treason." Eddard stated bluntly.

"Only if you are caught." Lann turned to leave, a handful of Reyne knights appearing from the shadows to escort him. "In the Game of Thrones we all eventually die. There is no middle ground and only fools believe there are winners." The Lord of Castamere paused and turned back to face Lord Stark before finally taking his leave. "The game is rigged. But my claws and Long and Sharp." Lann's knights followed their lord, leaving the Lord of Winterfell to wonder if coming south was such a good idea.

* * *

"Planning on staying in the capital Reyne?" King Robert asked as Lann rode up beside him at the head of the party.

"For a time." Lann replied, keeping his eyes fixed on the horizon.

"Planning on causing trouble?" Robert laughed, knowing the answer to the question.

Lann didn't disappoint. "I have no idea what your talking about, your grace."

"I'm surrounded by lions." The King began to rant. "My wife has already _commanded_ that I refuse your entry to the city as if shes the King and I her Queen. Your welcome as far as I'm concerned, at least with your pride of lions around the Lannisters content themselves with troubling you, rather than me."

"The Queen flatters me with her attention." Lann smiled to himself and the King let loos a rather sarcastic chuckle.

"I didn't see you in the hall during the business with Joffrey." Robert changed the topic away from his wife, a blessing they were both thankful for.

"Tygett informed me of the events." Lann paused, thinking how best to speak without making his disappointment too obvious. "He says you handled it well, considering. It could have gone far worse if the Queen had her way and I doubt Lord Stark would've remained in the capital if she took his daughters head."

"I never would've allowed that!" Roberts fury was present and Lann wished he'd been more subtle.

"Tygett said as much." Lann let the King do the talking, it seemed wise.

"If i hadn't let her kill the wolf and get some feeling of control, gods know what she'd have done behind my back." He continued as Lann thought about all the things the Queen was already doing behind his back; he was almost temped to come out and tell Robert all about it. "It had to be done. Ned will forgive me."

"He'll forgive you." Lann replied, "He may not forgive the Queen."

"Let him hate her. It'll be another thing we have in common!" Robert rode ahead at that and Lann had gotten the response he desired, the more Robert and Eddard hated the Queen the easier it would become for the truth to reveal itself. That being the true reason Cersei didn't want Lann near the King as she knew every time he spoke to Robert his hatred of her grew.

"Another fun talk with his grace?" Arthur rode up beside his father once the King had ridden off ahead.

"He dose most of the talking." Lann double checked his surroundings, far more Red than Gold. "All i need do is mention the woman and he dose the rest."

"Will it really be enough?" Arthur spoke

"He hates the woman now more than ever, thanks in small part to us. All that remains is for Stark to light the fuse." Lann replied in a hushed tone, while he was surrounded by his own banners one could never be too careful this close to the capital; once they entered that unholy city he'd have even less freedom.

"Convincing Stark may be a challenge. Could we not just tell him ourselves, he dose respect you far-"

"He tolerates me." Lann interrupted his son, "He'd refuse to believe it and he'd likely exile or kill me for the mere suggestion."

"If you say so." Arthur had never agreed with all the delaying tactics. It had already gotten Jon Arryn killed.

"I do say so." Lann was running out of patience for the boy, they had discussed this time and time again. On the other hand it would do well to get this out the way before they entered the vipers nest. "If it comes from Stark we can back his word and the King will not be able to question it."

"And the children?" Another question, gods Lann was haft tempted to send the boy back to Castamere.

"Stark will do his duty." Lann replied, knowing all too well how much of a pain it would be to convince Stark that the death of three innocent children is justified. Stannis and Jon Arryn had accepted it as necessary and were close to the end game but Lann was not in the capital to ensure success, a mistake he refused to make twice.


	8. Chapter 8: Honor or Duty

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire by George RR Martin, i do however own the non-canon character(s) of this story. This is purely a work of my personal enjoyment so i ask you to not expect anything worthy of the great GRRM. I fully welcome criticism/suggestions as this is my first attempt at a fanfiction. The story will eventually be finished (i hate leaving things unfinished) but i have no real schedule. Please review as i'd love the feedback.

* * *

Notes: It's been awhile. I have begun to re-read the books to give me a little refresher on events and generally beef up the chapters a little. Arthur is Commander of the City Watch hence the position on the council. I'll go into more detail on how he gained the position but overall it was a power move by Lann done awhile ago etc.

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**Chapter 8: Honor or Duty**

"The whore is pregnant!" The king's fist slammed down on the council table laud as a thunder clap. "I warned you this would happen, Ned. Back in the barrowlands, I warned you, but you didn't care to hear it. Well, you'll hear it now. I want them dead, mother and child both, and that fool Viserys as well. Is that plain enough for you? I want them dead!" Arthur, much like the other councilors, was doing his best to pretend that he was somewhere else. No doubt a wiser move than Stark.

"You will dishonor yourself forever if you do this." Stark replied, causing Arthur to roll his eyes at the statement.

"Then let it be on my head, so long as it is done. I am not so blind that I cannot see the shadow of the axe when it is hanging over my own neck."

"There is no axe," Stark told his king. "Only the shadow of a shadow, twenty years removed... if it exists at all."

"If?" Varys asked softly, wringing powdered hands together. "My lord, you wrong me. Would I bring lies to king and council?"

Stark looked at the eunuch coldly. "You would bring us the whisperings of a traitor haft a world away, my lord. Perhaps Mormont is wrong. Perhaps he is lying."

"Ser Jorah would not dare deceive me," Varys said with a sly smile. "Rely on it, my lord. The princess is with child."

"So you say. If you are wrong, we need not fear. If the girl miscarries, we need not fear. If she births a daughter in place of a son, we need not fear. If the babe dies in infancy, we need not fear." A little too empty a speech for Arthur's tastes but he remained silent, waiting for King Robert's obvious response.

"But if it _is_ a boy?" Robert insisted. "If he lives?"

"The narrow sea would still lie between us. I shall fear the Dothraki the day they teach their horse to run on water."

The king took a shallow of mine and glowered at Stark from across the table while Arthur and the others continued to remain silent. "So you would counsel me to do nothing until the dragonspawn has landed his army on my shores, is that it?" Arthur found it odd in that moment that the stag hated the dragon more so than the wolf yet it was the wolf that lost the most to the dragon, the stag lost nothing and gained everything.

"This 'dragonspawn' is in his mother's belly," Stark said. "Even Aegon did no conquering until after he was weaned."

"Gods! You are stubborn as an aurochs, Stark." The king looked around the council table. "Have the rest of you mislaid your tongues? Will no one talk sense to this frozen-faced fool?" Arthur allowed the others to speak first, they had obviously been preparing for this moment ever since Lord Stark had arrived to witness the Kings ranting.

Vary gave the king a unctuous smile and laud a soft hand on Stark's sleeve. "I understand your qualms, Lord Eddard, truly I do. It gave me no joy to bring this grievous news to the council. It is a terrible thing we contemplate, a _vile_ thing. Yet we who presume to rule must do vile things for the good of the realm, howevermuch it pains us."

Renly shrugged. "The matter seems simple to me. We ought to have had them killed years ago, but His Grace my brother made the mistake of listing to Jon Arryn."

"Mercy is never a mistake, Lord Renly," Stark replied. "On the trident, Ser Barristan here cut down a dozen good men, Robert's friends and mine. When they brought him to us, grievously wounded and near death, Roose Bolton urged us to cut his throat, but your brother said, 'I will not kill a man for loyalty, nor fighting well,' and sent his own master to tend to Ser Barristan's wounds." Stark gave the king a long cool look. "Would that man were here today."

Robert has shame enough to blush. "It was not the same," he complained. "Ser Barristan was a knight of the Kingsguard."

"Whereas Daenerys is a fourteen-year-old girl." Stark was pushing it now, this much was obvious to Arthur. Gods how he wished he'd let his father accept this position. "Robert, I ask you, what did we rise against Aery Targaryen for, if not to put an end to the murder of children?"

"To put an end to the Targaryens!" the king growled and Arthur knew he should have spoken up sooner.

"Lord Stark. I understand your desire to protect an innocent, but the child may not grow up an innocent while his kin whisper in his ear, teaching him or her of an alleged birthright." He paused, having gotten the Kings attention. "The Dothraki are not a present threat, true enough, yet the fact remains that they may indeed become one and wherever or not we can easily crush them is not the question. Should we not remove the potential threat _before_ it becomes a true threat? Is it not our duty?" A fine speech, but Arthur doubted it would be enough.

"Well said." Robert sighed. "The threat must be removed _before_ it becomes an invasion!"

"Your Grace, I never knew you to fear Rhaegar." Starks voice was full of scorn, if he'd attempted to hide it he had failed miserably. "Have the years so unmanned you that you tremble at the shadow of an unborn child?" In that moment Arthur knew things were not going to go well if the tension continued.

The king purpled. "No more, Ned," he waned, pointing. "Not another word. Have you forgotten who is king here?"

"No, Your Grace," Stark replied. "Have you?"

"Enough!" the king bellowed. "I am sick of talk. I'll be done with this, or be dammed. What say you all?"

"She must be killed." Lord Renly declared.

"We have no choice," murmured Varys.

"So long as it is quick. To spare the realm another war I see no other option, she must die." Arthur echoed the opinion, in truth war was coming, one way or another. The last thing they needed right now however was an invasion from the East while the Lannisters remained a threat; better to kill Viserys and the girl than to simply ignore them.

Ser Barristan Selmy raised his pale blue eyes from the table and said, "Your Grace, there is honor in facing an enemy on the battlefield, but none in killing him in his mother's womb. Forgive me, but I must stand with Lord Eddard." Semly eyed Arthur in that moment, with disappointment and a hint of anger. But it could have been Arthur's imagination.

Grand Maseter Pycelle cleared his throat, a process that seemed to take some mintures. "My order serves the realm, not the ruler. Once I counseled King Aerys as loyally as I counsel King Robert now, so I bear this girl child of his no ill will. Yet I ask you this, should war come again, how many soldiers will die, How many towns will burn? How many children will be ripped from their mothers to perish on the end of a spear?" He stroked his luxuriant white beard, infinitely sad, infinitely weary. "Ser Reyne is correct. Is it not wiser, even kinder, that Daenerys Targaryen should die now that tens of thousands might live?"

"Kinder," Varys said. "Oh, well and truly spoken, Grand Maseter. It is so true. Should the gods in their caprice grant Daenerys Targaryen a son, the realm would bleed."

Litterfinger was the last. As Stark looked to him, Lord Petyr stifled a yawn. "When you find yourself in bed with an ugly woman, the best thing to do is close your eyes and get on with it," he declared. "Waiting won't make the maid any prettier. Kiss her and be done with it."

"Kiss her?" Ser Barristan repeated, aghast.

Arthur interrupted. "A steel kiss," he stared at Litterfinger. "So long as it is quick. I wish no suffering upon the girl."

"It will be painless." Varys replied with a nod and this at least Arthur accepted as truth. "The tears of Lys, let us say. It is painless and Khal Drogo need never know it was not a natural death." Grand Maester Pycelle's sleepy eyes flicked open. He squinted suspiciously at the eunuch.

"Poison is a cowards weapon," the king complained.

Stark had clearly had enough. "You send hired knives to kill a fourteen-year-old girl and still quibble about honor?" He pushed back his chair and stood. "Do it yourself, Robert. The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. Look her in the eyes before you kill her. See her tears, hear her last words. You owe her that much at least."

"Gods," the king swore, the word exploding out of him as if he could barely contain his fury. "You mean it, damn you." He reached for the flagon of time at his elbow, found it empty, and flung it away to shatter against the wall. "I am out of wine and out of patience. Enough of this. Just have it done."

"I will not be part of your murder, Robert. Do as you will, but do not ask me to fix my seal to it." For a moment the king did not seem to understand what Stark was saying. Difiance was not a dish royalty tasted often. Slowly hias face changed as comprehension came. "You are the King's Hand, Lord Stark. You will do as I command you, or I'll find me a Hand who will."

"Your Gra-" Arthur tired to speak up but was silenced by a raise of the kings hand.

"I wish him every success." Stark unfastened the heavy clasp that clutch at the folds of his cloak, the ornate silver hand that was his badge of office. He laid in on the table in front of the king, saddened by the events at hand. "I thought you a better man than than this, Robert. I thought we had a nobler king."

"Lord Sta-" Arthur tried and failed again. Gods know when a Baratheon wants to yell he can yell.

"Out!" he croaked, choking on his rage, "Out, damn you, I'm done with you. What are you waiting for? Go, run back to Winterfell. And make certain I never look on your face again, or I swear, I'll have your head on a spike!" Lord Stark bowed and left without a word. The meeting continued afterwards but all Arthur could think about is how his father and brother will be furious that he'd allowed this to happen, as if he could have stopped it.

* * *

"No!" A scream echoed through the night and rain, causing Arthur and his Goldcloaks to push forward with greater speed. It began after the meeting, when Tygett had confronted his brother, placing blame on his shoulders as he expected. What he did not expect however was the new that Stark was not present in his rooms and that the Kingslayer had left the keep with thirty Lannister guards. Tygett's concerns were proven when Litterfinger arrived with news.

"Jaime!" Tygett shouted through the rain, dismounting his horse alongside his brother.

"Secure their weapons!" Arthur gave the command and his fifty or so golden cloaks drew their steel in open challenge of the red. In the past the Lannister men would have been more than a match for the city watch but the previous commander had a 'accident' and Arthur was granted his position, beyond removing those of questionable loyalty, he had enforced strict training upon his new charges. A move that gained him little love from many but the watch was now a force to be respected even if they had less recruits since Arthur demanded such harsh training.

"Jaime!" Tygett drew his steel and repeated his friends name once more, "Stand down brother! This is for the King to deal with!"

Jaime stared him down, Tygett's white cloak now muddy and socked. "Now Kingslayer! Or die with your men!" Arthur was prepared to give the order, beyond confident that his men would easily win the day, despite the piss poor conditions. The Kingslayer was good but no match for Him _and_ Tygett at once, not to mention the 50 well trained swords that had now surrounded the mere thirty at Jaime's back. "I would prefer that you refuse Kingslayer..." Arthur smiled, hoping for a fight.


	9. Chapter 9: Dark Words

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire by George RR Martin, i do however own the non-canon character(s) of this story. This is purely a work of my personal enjoyment so i ask you to not expect anything worthy of the great GRRM. I fully welcome criticism/suggestions as this is my first attempt at a fanfiction. The story will eventually be finished (i hate leaving things unfinished) but i have no real schedule. Please review as i'd love the feedback.

* * *

Notes: Another chapter, don't get used to this speed lol. I cannot record a lot while I am recording footage for my youtube channel so I have taken to writing rather than watching TV like I normally do. I have a 2TB hard drive full of footage that needs rendering, so expect a few chapters written a lot quicker than I normally would etc. :)

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PS: Is anyone else horribly disappointed by this season of HBO's Game of Thrones? It's now basically a fanfiction and not an adaptation what with all the cut/changed content and replaced/killed off early characters. I watch it and go away with a feeling of disappointment, but maybe it's just me? Hell, I enjoy my own fanfic more than the shows but that is likely because this uses the books, not the show. I'm actually reading the books again hence the new inspiration to write chapters.

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**Chapter 9: Dark Words**

"Lord Stark?" Tygett stood over the bed with two Stark guards shadowing the doorway.

"How... how long?" Stark spoke from his tangled sheets, his leg splinted and plastered.

"Six days and seven nights." Tygett replied, "We were not entirely sure you would wake. Here, you should drink." Stark hesitated until Tygett took a sip for himself and smiled in reply. "I see it takes flirting with the stranger for you to exercise the healthy level of paranoia that is so greatly needed to survive this vipers nest."

Stark ignored the jest. "How do things stand?"

"His Grace has commanded me to send you to him the moment you opened your eyes, but perhaps it's best for him to venture here?" Tygett directed the question to his maester. "He is weak Damon, thoughts?" He raised an eyebrow, experience with these things being far from his area of expertise.

"If you'd studied like your father ordered you wouldn't need me to confirm your thoughts on such matters, my lord."

Tygett rolled his eyes at the old man. "Just answer the question Damon."

The old maseter sighed, seeming to take hours in the doing. "Lord Stark should not move, least the leg fail to heal as desired."

"There you have it." Tygett paused to consider sending one of Starks guards to inform the King, but thought better of it. "I will speak to the King."

"Maester Damon was it?," Stark spoke after Tygett left the room, "I would have assumed to see Pycelle here."

"He was here my lord but Ser Tygett thought better of it." Damon smiled, "Rest assured you are in good hands, perhaps even better of come to think of it."

Time passed as Damon saw to Starks wound and eventually the doors to his chamber opened again. "Your Grace," Stark said. "Your pardons. I cannot rise."

"No matter," the king said gruffly. "Some wine? From the Arbor. A good vintage."

"A small cup," Stark replied. "My head is still heavy from the milk of the poppy."

"A man in your place should count him fortunate that his head is still on his shoulders," the queen declared, to Tygetts hidden distrust,

"Quiet, woman," Robert snapped and brought Stark a cup of wine. "Dose the leg still pain you?"

"Some." Stark said before looking to Damon, who gave a nod to ensure the wounded wolf.

"It will heal clean your Grace." Damon spoke up, bowed, and took his leave.

The king frowned. "I take it you know what Catelyn has done?"

"I do." Stark took a small swallow of mine. "My lady wife is blameless, Your Grace. All she did she did at my command."

"I am not pleased, Ned," the king grumbled. In truth Tygett doubted his king truly cared, if not for the amount of noise his wife had been kicking up.

"By what right do you dare lay hands on my blood?" Cersei demanded. "Who do you think you are?"

"The Hand of the King," Stark told her with ice courtesy. "Charged by your own lord husband to keep the king's peace and enforce the king's justice."

"You _were_ the Hand," Cersei began, "but now-"

"Silence!" the king roared. "You asked him a question and he answered it." Cersei subsided, cold with anger, and Robert turn back to his friend. "Keep the king's peace, you say. Is this how you keep the peace, Ned? seventeen men are dead thanks to your actions. Who knows how many more would have died if not for that Reyne lad."

"Eighteen," the queen corrected. "Tregar died this morning from his wounds and lets not forget, it was the Reyne boys doing!"

"My brother and I were protecting the Hand," Tygett interrupted. "Ser Jaime refused to stand down and his men paid the price. The gods only know what would have happened if we had not found Lord Stark in time. Jaime should have stood done and returned to the keep with me, rather than fleeing the capital. It makes him look-"

Cersei slapped Tygett with all her might. "How dare you!"

"To strike the Kingsguard is to strike the King." Robert stared at his wife, anger behind his and Tygett's eyes. "You will never do it again."

The room took on an oddly cold silence as the Queen noted that Tygett has not ceased staring at her silently, hand hovering next to the pommel of his blade. "M- My brother was not the cause of this quarrel," She opted to try and ignore the knights stare. "Lord Stark was returning drunk from a brothel. His men attacked Jaime and his guards, even as his wife attacked Tyrion on the kingsroad."

"You know me better than that, Robert," Ned said as he noted that Tygett was still starring at the queen. "Ask Lord Baelish if you doubt me. He was there."

"Baelish was the one who informed my brother of your location Lord Stark." Tygett broke his stare but was still clearly furious, as if he would strike the queen down at any moment. "He claims he rode off to bring the gold cloaks before the fighting began, but he admits you were returning from some whorehouse."

"Some whorehouse? Damn your eyes, Robert, I went there to have a look at your daughter! Her mother has named her Barra. She looks like that first girl you fathered, when we were boys together in the Vale." The queens face was a mask, still, pale and a little on edge near Tygett, but she betrayed none of it.

The king flushed. "Barra," he grumbled. "Is that supposed to please me? Damn the girl. I thought she had more sense."

"She cannot be more than fifteen, and a whore, and you thought she had more sense?" Stark said, incredulous. "The fool child is in love with you, Robert."

The king glanced at Cersei. "This is no fit subject for the queen's ears."

"Her Grace will have no liking for anything I have to say," Stark replied. "The Kingslayer fled the city. Give me leave to bring him back to justice."

The king swirled the wine in his cup, brooding. He took a swallow and for a moment Tygett thought he would do it. "No," he said. "I want no more of this. Jaime slew three of your men, you five of his and Reyne's Gold Cloaks either captured or slaughtered the others. Now it ends."

"Is that your notion of justice?" Stark flared. "If so, I am pleased that I am no longer your Hand."

Cersei looked at her husband. "If any man spoke to a Targaryen as he has spoken to you-"

"Do you take me for Aerys?" the king interrupted.

"I took you for a king. Jaime and Tyrion are your own brothers, by all the laws of marriage and the bonds we share. The Starks have driven off the one and sized the other. This man dishonors you with every breath he takes, and yet you stand there meekly, asking if his leg pains him and would he like some wine."

The kings face was dark with anger. "How many times must I tell you to hold your tongue, woman?"

Cersei's face was a study in contempt. "What a jape the gods have played on us two," she said. "By all rights, you ought to be in skirts and me in mail."

Purple with rage, the king lashed out, a back-hand blow to the side of the head. She stumbled against the tab;e and fell hard, yet Cersei Lannister did not cry out. "I shall wear this like a badge of honor," she announced. On the morrow the bruise would cover haft her face.

"Wear it in silence, or I'll honor you again," Robert vowed. He shouted for a guard and Ser Meryn Trant stepped into the room, one of Tygett's more useless brothers in white. "The queen is tied. See her to her bedchamber." The knight helped Cersei to her feet and led her out without a word, leaving Stark, Tygett and the King alone in the room

"That went well your grace." Tygett jested, causing the king to laugh

"You see what she dose to me, Ned?" The king seated himself, cradling his wine cup. "My loving wife. The mother of my children." The rage was gone from him now. "I should not have hit her. That was not... that was not kingly." Tygett disagreed, concerning the true sins of the woman a small slap seemed to be the least she should get. Here, this is yours." He pulled the heavy silver claps from the pocket in the living of his cloak and tossed it on the bed, "Like it or not you are my Hand, damn you. I forbid you to leave."

"Why do you want me as your hand?" Stark picked up the silver clasp and weighed it as if he was being given a choice.

"Why" The king laughed. "Why not? Someone has to rule this damnable kingdom. Put on the badge, Ned. It suits you. And if you ever throw it in my face again, I swear to you, I'll pin the damned thing on Jaime Lannister. Or better yet I'll pin it on Lann Reyne and we'll have another war on our hands." Robert took another swig of wine. "Speaking of your father Tygett, I apologize for before, it wont happen again."

"House Reyne has felt the sting of Lannister claws before and only grown stronger for it," Tygett smiled. "Our claws are sharper."

Robert finished off his wine before continuing, ignoring the devilish grin on Tygett's face. "I'm off for a hunt. Remain here at the keep and watch over Ned for me, I wont have another incident in my absence nor do I need the Kingsguard to protect me from my dinner." Robert slammed his cup on the table with a thundering clap.

"I should come with you Your Grace." Tygett protested

"I shall bring Selmy along and no doubt a handful of lords will want to join, so relax for once." Robert laughed and spoke again before Tygett could attempt to argue. "I command you to enjoy yourself Reyne, gods know you have not put your sword down once since you joined the Kingsguard. Go! I command it!" Tygett obeyed and took his leave, content in the knowledge that the Lord Commander would keep the king safe.

* * *

The fight with the Lannister men had been a short one, surrounded and outnumbered, those who didn't taste steel quickly surrendered. All but Jaime, who fled the capital with his tail between his legs. "Enter," Arthur replied to the knocking at his door. "Brother, should you not be protecting His Graces royal self?"

"Just checking in on my little brother," Tygett closed the door behind him. "Hows the wound treating you?"

"It's just a scratch," Arthur smiled and pulled up his sleeve to reveal a rather large bandage. "Damon dose good work."

"Your lucky you didn't lose the arm." Tygett returned the smile and took at seat.

"I've had worse," Arthur rolled his eyes. "You should see the other guy. He's dead..."

"I know, I was there." The eldest Reyne sighed. "You know they are not likely to forget our part in this."

Arthur burst out laughing. "Good. Father is too soft on them, we should just strike and be done with it!"

"Not so loud little brother." Tygett's face turned rather serious for a moment.

"No ears here beside those loyal to _Me_ my dear brother," Arthur smiled. "The Lannister's fail to see just how many people despise them. I could take this city-"

"You will do no such thing," Tygett all but commanded. "Father has not worked so hard for you to undo everything with a single swing of your sword. The time will come eventually little brother but that day is _not_ today." Gods know Arthur was hot tempered, ever since his mother died. At times when he was younger they had to give him milk of the poppy just to make him stop training in the yard and get some sleep for once.

Arthur sighed, rolling his eyes again. "I grow increasing tired of waiting."

"We all do," Tygett cooled his temper. "As father says, the supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting."

"But I like fighting." A devilish grin returned to Arthur's face and both of the brothers burst into laughter. "Your right as always Tygett and you know I would not do such a thing without fathers say so, if we must play this game of thrones then we shall play it his way. For the record however I still say we should kill them all and be done with it."

* * *

Castamere was crowded of late, what with all the visiting lords from across the West. Lann had summoned them for a grand feast but in truth it was an excuse to get his allies in one room to discuss future events. He'd left the capital in hopes of diverting the queen's attention onto _his_ actions, rather than his sons and Lord Stark. "My Lords."

"Lann." Lord Kenning shook his friends hand before taking a seat.

"Reyne." Sarsfield was next, taking a place of honor beside Lann at the head of the table.

"I believe that is everyone Lann." Ser Lymond Vikary confirmed that everyone had arrived, their families off in the great hall enjoying the feast.

"Good," Lann spoke. "Take a seat Lymond and lets begin shall we?"

"I hear your sons remain in the capital?" Kenning spoke up, no doubt concerned for his daughters husband.

"Aye," Lann smiled at Kennings concern. "Arthur's control over the gold cloaks will be paramount. They are beyond loyal to him."

"King's Landing is ours then, in all but name," Lord Farman said. "Control the capital and you control the king."

"I doubt any man truly controls King Robert," Lann replied. "Yet our presence in the capital gives us an edge should the Lannister's try anything. I trust your son knows what's to be done Banefort?" Banefort's lad was in the capital under a false name, sending covert messages between the Capital and Castamere.

"He'll send a raven then ride with all haste just encase the raven fails, should the worse happen." Banefort replied, the man had a truly deep and almost sinister voice.

"Good." Lann gave the lord of the Banefort a look as if to say, _fail us i'll burn the Banefort to the ground. _"With any luck it wont come to that."

Sarsfield spoke next. "We can raise almost ten thousand men at quick notice should it come to that."

"Not enough to crush Tywin decisively, but enough to challenge him." Banefort agreed, stroking his bread.

"With more time we can field a solid ten to fifteen thousand, well trained and prepared," Lann interjected. "The Red Lions mistake was rushing in unprepared, we shall not repeat that mistakes and Tywin will not be so lucky as to face a divided force this time around." The lords were in agreement of that much, the previous rebellion was ill-thought.

"There is the matter of who will replace the Lannister's as Lord Paramount." Farman brought up the subject first.

"It is Reyne's rebellion," Kenning spoke confidently. "His family have suffered the most at-"

"We have all suffered my lords, although none can doubt Lann wields the heaviest loss," Bane interrupted much to Kennings displeasure. "What claim dose that give him?"

"The Lannister's had no claim when they stole the Rock from the Casterlys!" Kenning shouted, a little too loudly for Lann's liking.

"Enough," Lann said calmly. "I thought perhaps putting it to a vote would be the only fair way, once the conflict is over and peace returns."

A moment of silence washed over the table before Sarsfield added his voice. "A noble sentiment my lord. I agree."

"As do I." Kenning added.

"Agreed." Farman spoke, smiling at Baneforts expression.

"Lord Banefort?," Lann raised an eyebrow, waiting for a response. "What say you?"

"A odd way of handling things my lord, but honorable," Banefort's expression changed from confusion to a slight hint of excitement. "I agree."

"A fine plan," Ser Vikary offered a smile. "It may even lure more lords to our cause, once the vote is known."

"Father." A child's voice, coming from behind the doorway. "May I enter?"

"Come in Robb." Lann watched his youngest eye the lords in attendance with suspicion as he walked over to him.

"A letter from the Maseter," Robb spoke, still curious as to the lords that were staring at him. "I brought it straight here, just like you said."

"You did good lad," Lann smiled at his bastard. "Now run along."

Robb's face lit up at doing a good job, he exited the room practically skipping. "Gods," Lann exclaimed after reading the letter. "That escalated quickly..."


	10. Chapter 10: Dark Deeds

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire by George RR Martin, i do however own the non-canon character(s) of this story. This is purely a work of my personal enjoyment so i ask you to not expect anything worthy of the great GRRM. I fully welcome criticism/suggestions as this is my first attempt at a fanfiction. The story will eventually be finished (i hate leaving things unfinished) but i have no real schedule. Please review as i'd love the feedback.

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Notes: Another chapter, this one is a little shorter than normal but I find myself with less time this month so I thought I would simply get it done etc. On another note I am really not that comfortable with writing the somewhat-smutty stuff, hence the first section being short. I don't mind a little... but you'll never get detailed encounters lol.

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**Chapter 10: Dark Deeds**

King Robert was dead and the old plan all but destroyed, something Arthur was strangely grateful for as now that things called for a firmer hand. "Good morning." Arthur addressed the woman in his bed, who was making no attempt to cover herself up as she smiled at her husband. "We cant," Arthur stated bluntly. "Now get dressed Lelia."

"You should enjoy me while you can Lord Reyne," Lelia smiled devilishly revealed her thigh from under the covers in a attempt to lure her husband back into bed.

"We enjoyed each other plenty last night, or had you forgotten?" Arthur returned a smile and continued to dress.

Lelia rolled her eyes. "I'm with child."

"Y- Your certain?" Arthur hesitated, seemingly paralyzed on the spot.

"Maester Damon is quite confident," Lelia's smile grew. "I am carrying your heir."

"Lelia..." Arthur had no words but thankfully his wife wouldn't let him speak even if he had the words, proceeding to hug him. "Why keep it secret until now?"

"I had planned to wait until one of Robert's feasts, you know how I like to make a spectacle." Arthur smiled at that, recalling his rather lavish wedding day that was in truth fit for a King. The day was a slight to Casterly Rock, meant to show just how rich and prosperous Castamere's gold mines were. The richest in the West.

"Thank you love," Arthur kissed her again. "This will make things easier."

"We are your family," She turned serious all of a sudden, guiding Arthur's hand to her stomach. "Do your duty, not let them harm our child."

Arthur took a knee. "I swear. I swear upon the gods old and new, that nobody will harm you _or_ our child Lelia. I will see this world burn before I allow that to happen." With that he left the room, but not before ordering the guard on his quarters doubled. Lord Stark would be in the throne room soon, and he would do his duty to his family.

* * *

Eddard Stark slowly limped and hopped towards the boy who called himself king. The others followed. The knights of the Kingsguard, all but Ser Jaime, were arrayed in crescent around the base of the throne, Tygett among them. They were in full armor, enameled steel from helm to heel, long pale cloaks over their shoulders, shining white shields strapped to their left arms. Cersei Lannister and her two younger children stood behind Ser Boros and Ser Meryn. Above them, Prince Joffrey sat amidst the barbs and spikes in a cloth-of-gold doublet, watched over by Sandor Clegane and twenty Lannister guardsmen, longswords hanging from their belts.

Joffrey stood. "I command the council to make all the necessary arrangements for my coronation," the boy proclaimed. "I wish to be crowned within the fortnight. Today I shall accept oaths of fealty from my loyal councilors." Arthur stood beside Stark, wanting desperately to remove the Lannister filth from the seat of kings. His men were in position, it would be over quickly and the deed would be done, outnumbering the Lannisters five to one.

Stark produced a letter. "Lord Varys, be so kind as to show this to my lady of Lannister."

The spider carried the letter to Cersei and she glanced at the words. "Protector of the Realm," she read. "Is this meant to be your shield, my lord? A piece of paper?" She ripped the letter in haft, ripped the halves in quarters, and let the pieces flutter to the floor. Tygett's expression betrayed nothing, staring back at the judgement in Starks eyes.

"Those were the king's words," Ser Barristan said, shocked.

"We have a new king now," Cersei replied. "Lord Eddard, when last we spoke, you gave me some counsel. Allow me to return the courtesy. Bend the knee, my lord. Bend the knee and swear fealty to my son, and we shall allow you to step down as Hand and live out your days in the grey waste you call home."

"Would that I could," Stark said grimly. "Your son has no claim to the throne he sits. Lord Stannis is Robert's true heir."

"Liar!" Joffrey screamed, his face reddening.

"Mother, what dose he mean?" Princess Myrcella asked the queen plaintively. "Isn't Joffrey the king now?"

"You condemn yourself with your own mouth, Lord Stark," said Cersei. "Ser Barristan, seize this traitor."

The Lord Com ander of the Kingsguard hesitated. In the blink of an eye he was surrounded by Stark guardsmen, bare steel in their mailed fists.

"And now the treason moves from words to deeds, "Cersei said. "Do you think Ser Barristan stands alone, my lord?" With an ominous rasp of metal on metal, the hound drew his longsword. The knights of the Kingsguard and twenty Lannister guardsmen in crimson cloaks moved to support him.

"Kill him!" the boy king screamed down from the Iron Throne. "Kill all of them, I command it!"

"You leave me no choice," Stark told Cersei. He called out to Arthur. "Commander, take the queen and her children into custody. Do them no harm, but escort them back to the royal apartments and keep them there, under guard." The moment Arthur had dreaded, the dishonor his brother claimed they _had_ to be apart of. We cannot move until father and the lords are prepared, that is the story Tygett had spun to justify this... this slaughter.

"Men of the Watch!" Arthur gave the order with a heavy heart.

"I want no bloodshed," Stark told the queen. "Tell your men to lay down their swords, and no one need-" With a single sharp thrust, the nearest gold cloak drove his spear into one of Starks guards, beginning the slaughter as the Stark guardsmen were cut down. Arthur reluctantly joined the slaughter, making each kill quick and clean.

As his men died around him, Litterfinger slid Starks dagger from its sheath and shoved it up under his chin. His smile was apologetic. "I _did_ warn you not to trust me."

* * *

A knight of the Kingsguard stood beneath the arch of the door with five Lannister guardsmen arrayed behind him. "Arya Stark," the knight said, "come with us child."

Arya chewed her lip uncertainly. "What do you want?"

"Your father wants to see you."

Arya took a step forward, but her dancing master held her by the arm. "And why is it that Lord Eddard is sending Lannister men in place of his own? I am wondering."

"Mind your place, dancing master," the knight said. "This is no concern of yours."

"My father wouldn't send you," Arya said. She snatched up her stick sword. The Lannisters laughed.

"Put down that stick, girl," the knight told her. "I am a Sworn Brother of the Kingsguard, the White Swords."

"So was the Kingslayer when he killed the old king," Arya said. "I don't have to go with you if I don't want."

The knight had ran out of patience. "Take her," he said to his men, lowing his visor.

The dancing master stepped between them. "You will be stopping there. Are you men or dogs that you would threaten a child?"

"Out of the way, old man," one of the red cloaks said.

A stick came whistling up and rang against the red cloaks helm. "I am Syrio Forel, and you will now be speaking to me with more respect."

"Bald bastard." The man yanked free his longsword. The stick moved again, blindingly fast. Arya heard a loud crack as the sword went clattering to the stone floor. "My hand," the guardsmen yelped, cradling his broken fingers. The sound of more fighting could be heard outside, along with faint footsteps coming down the hall.

"You are quick, for a dancing master," said the knight.

"You are slow, for a knight," Syrio replied.

"Kill the Braavosi and bring me the gir-" the knight was interrupted, choking on his own blood.

"So Ends My Foe." One of the Lannister guards mocked House Trants words as he withdrew his sword from Ser Meryn's back, leaving Trant choking on the floor in a pool of his own blood as he moved to make short work of his fellow red cloaks, their final moments being of fear and confusion. "Are you hurt Lady Arya?" The guard went to one knee to inspect the young wolf for any harm done.

"No," Arya replied, watching curiously as the man cleaned the blood off his steel and started to feel along the walls. "Whats happening? You killed a Kingsguard!"

"That man was unfit to wear the cloak," He spat on Meryn's corpse before making a section in the wall slide aside. "Here we are..."

"Where is my father!" Arya practically commanded him.

"There is no time to explain," The guard paused and looked at the dancing master. "Somebody must be blamed for Meryn's death."

"No! He's my friend!" Arya started to hit the Lannister man with her stick while Syrio stood in silence, showing no fear.

"I'll not kill a man wielding nothing but a training sword." The guard picked up one of the red cloaks swords, tossing it at the Braavosi's feet.

Syrio accepted the challenge with grace, taking the sword and entering his water dancing stance. He spun to his left with impressive speed, ducking an attempted blow to the head. To his credit the Braavosi never backed down, landing many a glancing blow against his challenger and even succeed in re-opening an old wound on the mans arm before Syrio recoiled from a deep slash to his chest, protected only by leather, the water dancer had no protection from the lions claws.

"Well played Braavosi," The guard caught his breath. "A fine duel, but it is over."

"You are fast, for a knight." Syrio looked his death in the eye and smiled.

"You are fast, for a dancing master." He made it clean, giving the foreigner a warriors death. "It is done."

"Bastard! He was trying to protect me!" Arya screamed and began to cry. "Why!"

"I am sorry little one, he needed to die so that I could pin these deaths on him," The guard sighed, not the first deed he'd done today that made him ill. "Come."

They entered the tunnels leading throughout the Red Keep, wearing a hooded cloak over his Lannister garb as he lead Arya, looking more like a boy than ever since he'd cut her hair short, down towards the courtyard where the fighting had long passed. "Where is my father..." Arya asked once again, not a question the man wished to answer or explain. How could he say her father was locked up and would likely die?

"He is beyond our help," He sighed and directed the girl towards a man in a black cloak. "You remember Yoren? He will take you back home."

"Come on boy." The old recruiter spoke, placing his hood back over his head after shaking the guards hand. "If anyone asks, your name is Arry and your a orphan."

Arya turned to thank the guardsmen only to find he had vanished back into the keep. "Where is my father?" Arya asked the black brother, and got no response.


	11. Chapter 11: War is the Answer

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire by George RR Martin, i do however own the non-canon character(s) of this story. This is purely a work of my personal enjoyment so i ask you to not expect anything worthy of the great GRRM. I fully welcome criticism/suggestions as this is my first attempt at a fanfiction. The story will eventually be finished (i hate leaving things unfinished) but i have no real schedule. Please review as i'd love the feedback.

* * *

Notes: I think this is my longest chapter? 3,670 words. I will try to write longer chapters too in the future but promise nothing in that regard.

* * *

**Chapter 11: War is the Answer**

"Tyrion," Kevan Lannister said in surprise.

"Uncle," Tyrion said, bowing. "And my lord father. What a pleasure to find you here."

Lord Tywin did not stir from his chair, but he did give his dwarf son a long, searching look. "I see that the rumors of your demise were unfounded."

"Sorry to disappoint you, Father," Tyrion said. "No need to leap up and embrace me, I wouldn't want you to strain yourself." He crossed the room to the table, acutely conscious of the way his stunted legs make him waddle with every step. Lord Tywin's eyes staring at his son had a way of highlighting all of the dwarfs deformities and shortcomings. "Kind of you to go to war for me," he said as he climbed into a chair and took some wine that Lann had so politely offered.

"It is you who started this," Lord Tywin replied. "Your brother Jaime would never have meekly submitted to capture at the hands of a woman."

"That's one way we differ, Jaime and I. He's taller as well, you may have noticed."

Tywin ignored the sally. "The honor of our house was at stake. I had no choice but to ride. No man sheds Lannister blood with impunity."

"Hear me Roar," Tyrion said, grinning. The Lannister words. "Truth be told, none of my blood was actually shed, although it was a close thing once or twice."

"I suppose you will be wanting some new men."

"Don't trouble yourself, Father, I've acquired a few of my own." Tyrion took a final swig of his ale, brown and yeasty, so thick you could almost chew it. Very fine in truth. Lann's eyes directed Tyrion to the hanged innkeep, as if placing blame. "How is the war going?"

Lann answered. "Well enough, for now. Ser Edmure had scattered small troops of men along his borders to stop us raiding, and we were able to destroy most of them piecemeal before they could regroup. Things have been moving smoothly on our front, while Jaime keeps pressure on Riverrun."

"Your brother has been covering himself with glory," Tywin said. "He smashed the Lords Vance and Piper at the Golden Tooth, and met massed powers of the Tullys under the walls of Riverrun. The lords of the Trident have been put to rout. Ser Edmure Tully was taken captive, with many of his knights and bannermen. Lord Blackwood led a dew survivors back to Riverrun, where Jaime now has them under siege. The rest fled back to their strongholds."

"Your father and I have been marching on each in turn," Ser Kevan said. " With Lord Blackwood gone, Raventree fell at once, and Lady Whent yeilded Harrenhal for want of men to defend it. Ser Gregor burnt out the Pipers and the Brackens..."

"Leaving you unopposed?" Tyrion said.

"Not wholly," Lann jumped in. "The Mallisters still hold Seagard and Walder Frey is marshaling his levies at the Twins."

"No matter," Lord Tywin said. "Frey only takes the field when the scent of victory is in the air, and all he smells now is ruin. And Jason Mallister lacks the strength to fight alone. Once Jaime takes Riverrun, they will both be quick enough to bend the knee. Unless the Starks and the Arryns come forth to oppose us, this war is good as won."

"I would not fret overmuch about the Arryns if I were you," Tyrion said. "The Starks on are another matter. Lord Eddard-"

"-is our hostage," Tywin replied. "He will lead no armies while he rots in a dungeaon under the Red Keep."

"No," Lann agreed, "but his son has called the banners and sits at Moat Cailin with a strong host around him."

"No sword is strong until it's bee tempered," Lord Tywin declared. "The Stark boy is a child. No doubt he likes the sound of warhorns well enough, and the sight of his banners fluttering in the wind, but in the end it comes down to butcher's work. I doubt he had the stomach for it."

"How has my lovely and persuasive sister gotten Robert to agree to the imprisonment of his fear friend Ned?"

"Robert Baratheon is dead," Tyrion spoke. "Your nephew reigns in King's Landing."

"My sister, you mean." Tyrion took another gulp of ale.

"If you have a mind to make yourself of use, I will give you a command," Tywin said. "Marq Piper and Karyl Vance are loose, raiding out lands across the Red Fork."

"The gall of them, fighting back. Ordinarily I'd be glad to punish such rudeness, Father, but the truth is, I have pressing business elsewhere."

"Do you?" Lord Tywin did not seem awed. "We also have a paid of Ned Stark's afterthoughts making anuisane of themselves by harassing my foraging parties. Bedric Dondarrion, some young lordling with delusions of valor. He has that fat jape of a priest with him, the one who likes to set his sword on fire. Loras Tyrell was also with them although reports say the boy has gotten himself killed. Do you think you might be able to deal with them as you scamper off? Without making too much a botch of it?"

"Father,, it warms my heart to think that you mught entrust me with... what, twenty men? Foifty Are you sure you can spare so many? Well, no matter. If I should come across Thoros and Lord Edric, I shall spank them both." Tyrion climbed down from his chair and waddled to the sidebord, where a wheel of vined whire cheese sat surrounded by fruit. "First, though, I have some promises of my own to keep," he said as he sliced off a wedfe. "I shall require three thousand helms and as many hauberks, plus swords, pikes, steel spearheads, maces, battle-axes, gauntlets, gorgets, greaves, breastplates, wagons to carry all this-"

The door to the inn opened with a crash, so violently that Tyrion almost dropped his cheese. Ser Kevan leapt up swearing as the captain of the guard went flying across the room to smash against the hearth. As he tumbled down into the cold ashes, his lion helm askew, Shagga snapped the man's sword in two with his knee thick as a tree trunk, threw down the pieces, and lumbered into the common room. "Little redcape," he snarled," when next you bare steel on Shagga son of Dolf, I will chop off your manhood and roast it on a fire."

"What, no goats?" Tyrion said, taking a bite of cheese. The other clansmen followed Shagga into the room.

"Charming." Lann said in jest, remaining seated.

"Who might you be?" Lord Tywin asked, cool as snow.

"They followed me home, Father," Tyrion explained. "May I keep them? They don't eat much."

No one was smiling, beside Lann's slight grin. "By what right do you savages intrude on our councils?" demanded Ser Kevan.

"Savages, lowlander?" One huffed. "We are free men, and free men by rights sit on all war councils."

"Witch one is the lion lord?" Another asked.

"Red or Gold?" Lann's smiled died as his hand began to caress Red Rain's pommel.

Keven joined Lann in this, his hand moving to his sword hilt, but his brother placed two fingers on his wrist and held him fast. Lord Tywin seems unperturbed. "Tyrion, have you forgotten your courtesies? Kindly acquaint us with our... honored quests."

Tyrion licked his fingers. "With pleasure," he said. "This fair maid is Chella daughter of Cheyk of the Black Ears."

"I'm no maid," The one called Chella protested. "My sons have taken fifty ears among them."

"May they take fifty more." Tyrion waddled away from her. "This is Conn son of Coratt. Shadda son of Dolf is the one who looks like Casterly Rock with hair. They are Stone Crows. Here is Ulf son of Umar of the Moon Brothers, and here is Timett son of Timett, a red hand of the Burned Men. And this is Bronn, a sellsword of no particular allegiance. He has already changed sides twice in the short time I've known him, you and he ought to get along famously, Father." To Bronn and the clansmen he said, "May I present my lord father, Tywin son of Tytos of House Lannister, lord of Castelry Rock, Warden of the West, Shield of Lannisport, and once and future Hand of the King."

Lord Tywin rose, with all the pride that Lann long ago came to expect from the man. "Even in the west, we know the prowess of the warrior clans of the Mountains of the Moon. What brings you dwn from your strongholds, my lords?" Golden lies spun by a poet but lies all the same, Lann remained seated, hand on his hilt.

"Horses." said Shagga.

"A promise of silk and steel," said Timett son of Timett.

Tyrion was about to speak when the door crashed opened once more, this time with a friendlier face, one of Lann's men in Lannister garb. The messenger gave Tyrion's clansmen a quick, queer look as he dropped to one knee before Lord Tywin. "My lord," he said. "Ser Addam bid me tell you that the Stark host is moving down the causeway."

Lord Tywin Lannister did not smile. Lord Tywin _never_ smiled, in all Lann's years of being a ward of Casterly he'd never once witnessed such an event although the mans satisfaction was all too clear to those whom knew him. "So the wolfling leaves his den to play among the lions," he said in a voice of quite satisfaction. "Splendid. Return to Ser Addam and tell him to fall back. He is not to engage the northerners until we arrive, but I want him to harass their flanks and draw them farther south."

"It will be as you command." The man took his leave but not before making eye contact with Lann to confirm his orders. Lann remained silent, his orders clear.

"We are well situated here," Ser Kevan pointed out. "Close to the ford and ringed by pits and spikes. If they are coming south, I say let them come, and brake themselves against us."

"The boy may hang back or lose his courage when he sees our numbers," Lord Tywin replied. "The sooner the Starks are broken, the sooner I shall be free to deal with Stannis Barahteon. Tell the drummers to beat assembly, and send word to Jaime that I am marching against Robb Stark."

"As you will," Ser Kevan said.

Tyrion watched with a grin as Tywin addressed his clansmen. "It is said that the men of the mountain clans are warriors with fear."

"It is said truly," Conn of the Stone Crows answered.

"And the woman," Chella added.

"Ride with me against my enemies, and you shall have all my son has promised you, and more," Lord Tywin told them."

"Would you pay us with our own coin?" Ulf son of Umar said. "Why should we need the father's promise, when we have the son's?"

"I said nothing of need," Lord Tywin replied. "My words were courtesy, nothing more. You need not join us. The men of the winterlands are made of iron and ice, and even my boldest knights fear to face them." Lann smiled crookedly as Tywin played the clansmen like a harp, poor bastards would likely be used as arrow fodder. Better me than them Lann thought to himself.

"The burned Men fear nothing. Timett son of Timett will ride with the lions."

"Wherever the Burned Men go, the Stone Crows have been there first," Conn declared hotly. "We ride as well."

"Shagga son of Dolf will shop off their manhoods and feed them to crows."

"We will ride with you, lion lord," Chella daughter of Cheyk agreed, "but only if your haftman son gose with us. He has bought his breath with promises. Until we hold the steel he has pledged us, his life is ours." Lord Tywin turned his gold-flecked eyes on his son while Lann offered the dwarf more ale.

"Joy," Tyrion said with a resigned smile.

* * *

"Ser Barristan Selmy, stand forth." Ser Barristan had been standing at the foot of the Iron Throen, as still as any statue, but now he went to one knee and bowed his head. "Your Grace, I am yours to command."

"Rise, Ser Barristan," Cersei Lannister said. "You may removed your helm."

"My lady?" Standing, the old knight took off his high white helm, though he did not seem to understand why.

"You have served the realm long and faithfully, good ser, and every man and woman in the Seven Kingdoms owes you thanks. Yet now I fear your service is at an end. It is the wish of the king and council that you lay down your heavy burden." Tygett fought the desire to defend his mentor.

"My... burden? I fear I... I do not..." The tall, white-haired knight seemed to shrink as he stood there, scarcelt breathing. "Your Grace," he said at last. "The Kingsguard is a Sworn Brotherhood. Our vows are taken for life. Only death may relive the Lord Commander of his sacred trust."

"Whose death, Ser Barristan?" The queen's voice was soft as silk, but her words carried the whole lenght of the hall. "Yours, or your king's?"

"You let my father die," Joffrey said accusingly from atop the Iron Throne. "You're too old to protect anybody."

"Your Grace," he said. "I was chosen for the White Swords in my twenty-third year. It was all I had ever dreamed, from the moment I first took sword in hand. I gave up all claim to my ancestral keep. The girl I was to wed married my cousin in my place, I had no need of land or sons, my life would be lived for the realm. Ser Gerold Hightower himself heard my vows... to ward his king with all my strength... to give my blood for his... I fought beside the White Bull and Prince Lewyn of Dorne... beside Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of Morning. Before I served your father, I helped shield King Aerys, and his father before him... three kings..."

Tygett stepped forward and quickly bowed his head. "Your Grace, there are few among my brothers that I count as worthy of the white and fewer still whom I would trust with my life. I beg of you to reconsider, Ser Barristan has served faithfully and-"

"His time is done," Cersei Lannister announced, interrupting Tygett's speech. "Your king requires young and strong men such as yourself around him Ser Tygett. The council has determined that Ser Jaime Lannister will take the place as Lord Commander of the Sworn Brothers of the White Swords."

"The Kingslayer," Ser Barristan said, his voice hard with contempt. "The false knight who profaned his blade with the blood of the king he had sworn to defend."

"Have a care of your words, ser," the queen warned. "You are speaking of out beloved brother, your kings own blood."

Lord Varys spoke, gentler than the others while Tygett returned his post defeated. "We are not unmindful of your service, good ser. Lord Tywin Lannister has generously agreed to grant you a handsome tract of land north of Lannisport, beside the sea, with gold and men sufficient to build you a stout keep, and servants to see to your every need."

"Ser Barristan looked up sharply. "A hall to die in, and men to bury me. I thank you, my lords... but I spit upon your pity." He reached up and undid the claps that held his cloak in place, and the heavy white garment slithered from his shoulders to fall in a heap on the floor. His helmet dropped with a clang. "I am a knight," he told them. He opened the silver fastenings of his breastplate and let that fall as well. "I shall die a knight."

"A naked knight, it would seem," quipped Littlefinger.

They all laughed then, all but Tygett who remained silent as the grave. Joffrey on his throne, and the lords standing in attendance, Queen Cersei and Sandor Clegane and even the other men of the Kingsguard, the few standing beside Tygett whom had been his brothers until a moment ago. Red-faced and too angry to speak, Ser Barristan drew his sword. "Have no fear, sers, your king is safe... no thanks to you. Even now I could cut thought you as easy as carving a cake. If you would serve under the Kingslayer, not one of you is fit to wear the white." He flung his sword at the foot of the Iron Throne. "Here, boy. Melt it down and add it to the others, if you like It will do you more good than the swords in the hands of these fools. Perhaps Lord Stannis will chance to sit on it when he takes your throne."

He took the long way out, his steps ringing loud against the floor and echoing off the vare stone walls. Lords and ladies parted to let him pass. Not until the pages had closed the great oak-and-bronze doors behind him did anyone dare speak. "He called me boy," Joffrey said peevishly, sounding younger than his years. "He talked about my uncle Stannis too."

"Idle talk," said Varys. "Without meaning..."

"He could be making plots with my uncles. I want him seized and questioned." No one moved and for a moment Tygett thought of joining Barristan and likely would have, if not for Arthur's presence reminding him of their duty to the family. Joffrey raised his voice. "I said, I want him seized!"

Arthur stepped forward, seeing an opportunity. "My men will see to it, Your Grace."

"Good," said King Joffrey as Arthur strode from the hall, his gold cloaks sticking to him like his own shadow.

* * *

"I don't want to fight you boy." Ser Barristan stopped in his tracks, sword at the ready.

"Nor I you," Arthur replied. "I am not here to fight, merely to talk."

"Speak then." The old knight kept his sword on hand, not entirely trusting the young lion.

"Leave us." Arthur ordered his men away as a show of good faith. He was fairly confident that Barristan would not strike him, at least not without being provoked. "Now we can talk privately, you'll not be needing that sword Ser. My brother would never forgive me if you forced my hand here."

"I was surprised to see him step forward," Barristan sighed. "It did little good in the end, but thank him for me all the same."

"To stand there nearly broke him, it took some convincing to stop him from taking up his sword for you," Arthur stepped closer to the old knight. "When we learnt of the bitches intent all his talk of buying time and being patient suddenly vanished. He spoke of many things in anger, all treason to the wrong ears, yet all just."

"He would brake he vows," Barristan seemed shocked. "Joffrey is-"

"-a bastard." Arthur interrupted him in a hushed voice. "The product of incest between Ser Jaime and the bitch. There is no royal blood in that boys veins, he's a pure blooded Lannister puppet and there is nothing I hate more than a Lannister. My brother would never brake his vows Ser, rest assured of that. He is loyal to his king."

"It's true?" Barristan asked as if he didn't already know the answer.

"Yes," Arthur replied coldly. "The secret Jon Arryn died for and soon I fear Lord Stark will share his fate. But what of you?"

"What of me?" The old knight hesitated, not wishing to reveal his plans.

Arthur smiled at his own knowledge. "Old allegiances die hard, no?"

Ser Barristan ignored him, changing the subject. "She will ask questions about my escape."

"She will hear of how you savagely stabbed two of my guards in the back, after feigning surrender."

"Your more like the Lannisters than you care to admit." Barristan spoke with contempt.

Arthur held back his anger at that. "You wound me, truly. I happen to be one of the most loyal people in the realm, to those who deserve my loyalty. I'll not claim to be honorable but never doubt my word once it is given honesty. Reyne to my friends, Lannister to my enemies. I wish you luck on your travels Ser."

"I'll admit," Barristan paused as he began to walk towards his ship. "I had some small hope that Tygett would join me."

"He swore no oath to House Targaryen. His duty is here." Arthur watched the old knight walk away. Now there was work to do, a fine opportunity to remove one or two of the more disloyal men among his ranks and pin their deaths on an exiled knight who couldn't be questioned about the events. All in all things were acceptable and almost easier with Robert out of the way, Arthur never did enjoy the action of inaction. War was the answer and it had always been the answer.


	12. Chapter 12: You Wound Me

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire by George RR Martin, i do however own the non-canon character(s) of this story. This is purely a work of my personal enjoyment so i ask you to not expect anything worthy of the great GRRM. I fully welcome criticism/suggestions as this is my first attempt at a fanfiction. The story will eventually be finished (i hate leaving things unfinished) but i have no real schedule. Please review as i'd love the feedback.

* * *

Notes: I was going to give Ellyn a chapter here but she'll wait till later, will no doubt have some insight into Robb's (our Robb) current situation.

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**Chapter 12: You Wound Me**

"Drink, Lord Stark." Arthur thrust a wine skin wineskin into Stark's hands.

Stark's hands fumbled at the skin. "Is this the same poison they gave Robert?"

Arthur laughed, his voice echoing into the darkness. "You wrong me," He said as before grabbing the skin and drinking deeply. "Not the finest vintage but rest assured that if I wished you dead, you would already be dead. You are of no use to anyone dead however, so take the bloody wine and be grateful for it."

Stark took the skin and tossed it aside. "You betrayed me."

"I did my duty," Arthur sighed. "I took no pleasure in the act and I personally even wished to go along with you and seize the throne to finally rid ourselves of those inbred bastards. Alas you pricked a piss poor time to rebel my lord, we are not yet ready to strike and could not allow you to jeopardize everything."

"You knew," Stark asked in disbelief. "You knew and did nothing?"

"Aye, we knew." Arthur replied with a grin. "My father grew up at Casterly Rock, least you forget. Haft the court knew of his children's relationship but the great Twin Lannister either didn't care or was simply too blind to see what was going on under his own nose. It's almost funny if you think about it..."

"My daughters..." Stark pleaded.

"I can do nothing for Sansa," Arthur paused. "Arya has escaped, heading north in the company of a friend. Sansa meanwhile remains betrothed to Joffrey. Cersei keeps her close. Tygett claims the girl came to court a few days ago to plead that you be spared but I fear it did little good. You are a dead man, Lord Stark."

"The queen will not kill me," Stark said. "Cat... Cat holds her brother."

"The wrong brother," Arthur said. "And besides, Varys tells me he is lost to her. She let the Imp slip through her fingers. I expect he is dead by now, somewhere in the Mountains of the Moon. Although father always said Tyrion is the smartest of them so perhaps he will survive somehow."

"You trust the spider?" Stark would have laughed no doubt, but he was too weak.

"Varys dose not lie," a small smile came across Arthur's face. "It's what he fails to say that should concern you, not what he chooses to reveal."

"If that is true, slit my throat and have done with it." He grabbed the wineskin and drank it's remains.

"Your blood is the last thing I desire."

Stark frowned. "You slaughtered my men."

"I gave them clean deaths." Arthur shifted uncomfortably. "It had to be done."

Stark seemed to study Arthur's face, searching for truth beneath the the mountains of lies that he so often told. He drank the few remaining drops of wine, no doubt regretting having wasted so much of it before. "Can you free me from this pit?" He asked, the dim light of hope in his eyes.

"I could... but will I? No. Helping your daughter was risk enough, freeing you would-"

Stark rose to his feet. "Expecting someone?"

"Step into the light Varys," Arthur loosened the grip from his swords hilt. "Where are your courtesies?"

The spider exited his shadowy corner, entering the light of Arthur's torch. "Forgive me for not introducing myself sooner my lords. I do so hate being impolite."

"No you don't," Arthur paused. "You got past my guards, why am I not surprised."

"Your getting good at the game Lord Arthur but I dare say you still have much to learn." The spider walked closer with a grin on his face. "Trusting a mere rabble with the task of securing the princess from her tower? A risky move, if the rabble can been captured-"

Arthur smiled, "Who said I used a rabble?"

Vary turned his attention to Stark. "I find myself wondering Lord Eddard, what madness led you to tell the queen you had learned the truth of Joffrey's birth?"

"The madness of mercy," Stark admitted.

"Ah," said Varys. "To be sure. You are an honest and honorable man, Lord Eddard. Ofttimes I forget that. I have met so few of them in my life." He glanced around the cell, laying his eyes on Arthur for a moment. "When I see what honesty and honor have won you, I understand why."

"Honor is the death of all good men, but it goes hand in hand with foolishness." Arthur paused for a reaction but got none.

"Cersei is frightened of you, my lord... but she has other enemies she fears more. Her beloved Jaime is fighting the river lords even now. Lysa Arryn sits in the Eyrie, ringed in stone and steel, and there is no love lost between her and the queen. In Dorne, the Martells still brood on the murder of Princess Elia and her babes. House Reyne commands the loyalty of haft the West. And now your son marches down the Neck with a northern host at his back."

"Robb is only a boy," Ned said, aghast.

"A boy with an army," Varys said. "Yet only a boy, as you say. The king's brothers are the ones giving Cersei sleepless nights... Lord Stannis in particular. His claim is a true one, he is known for his battle prowess as a commander, and he is utterly without mercy. There is no creature on this earth haft so terrifying as a truly just man."

"The bitch knows a tame wolf is more useful than a dead one." Arthur spoke.

"You want me to serve the woman who murdered my king, butchered my men and crippled my son?" Stark's voice was thick with disbelief.

"I want you to serve the realm," Arthur said. "Tell the queen that you will confess your vile treason, command your son to lay down his sword, and proclaim the bastard as the rightful king. Offer to denounce Stannis and Renly as faithless usurpers. She will allow you to take the black and live out the rest of your days at the Wall."

"You betray me and then come here seeking to save me?" Stark almost laughed at the notion, "Tell me Reyne, who do you truly serve?"

"My friend the spider would say we serve the realm," Arthur shot a look at Vary who was smiling thinly. "_I_ serve my father and he in turn serves House Reyne's interests. My father once said that what he has seen and left undone to achieve his position defies belief. And that what we must be capable of and must be party to in order to gain vengeance would chill ones very soul."

"You serve yourself." Stark snarled

"Yes," Arthur turned his back on the cell. "In doing so we rid the realm of a great injustice. That is of no concern for you however my lord, you need only think on if the next person to visit you either brings bread and cheese and the milk of the poppy for your pain... or brings you Sansa's head. The choice, Lord Stark, is _entirely_ yours."

* * *

A warhoon blew. Harooooooooooooooooooooo, it cried, it's voice as long and low and chilling as a cold wind from the north. The Lannister trumpets answered, da-DA da-DA da-DAAAAAAA, brazen and defiant, yet it seemed somewhat smaller, more anxious. As the horns died away, a hissing filled the air; a vast flight of arrows arched up from the right, where the archers stood flanking the road. The northerners broke into a run, shouting as they came, but the Lannister arrows fell on them like hail, hundreds of arrows, thousands, and shouts turned to screams as men stumbled and went down. By then a second flight was in the air, and the archers were fitting a third arrow to their bowstrings.

The trumpets blared again, da-DAAA da-DAAA da-DA da-DA da-DAAAAAAA. Lann noted a towering figure, Ser Gregor without a doubt, waving his huge sword as he bellowed commands, sending a thousand other voices screaming back at him as the van surged forward. A crescent of enemy spearmen had formed ahead of the van, a double hedgehog bristling with steel, waiting behind tall oaken shields marked with the sunburst of Karstark. Ser Gregor was the first on them, leading a wedge of armored knights, haft of whom shied at the last second, braking their charge before the row of spears. The others died, sharp steel points ripping through their chests. "To me!" Lann commanded, gaining a small following of brave knights that saw the battered northern shieldwall as a weak point, the fools were broken and preoccupied with Clegane who had seemingly lost his mount but was continuing on foot. Lann's charge was a success as the northern line balanced on the brink of chaos.

"About time you showed up!" Clegane spat at Lann, cleaving a Umber levy practically in haft with his sword.

Lann had planned a witty response but found himself rather engaged, "Shields!" He cried as a flight of arrows descended on them; where they came from he could not say, but they fell on Stark and Lannister alike, ratting off armor or finding flesh as Lann was throw from his horse after the beast was struck with a number of the arrows. The hedge crumbled, the northerners reeling back under the impact of the mounted assault, flights of arrows and not least, the handful of men that had passed their wall during the first clash. "I fucking hate archers." Lann grumbled to himself as he got to his feet and processed to pull an arrow from his thigh, slamming said arrowhead into the exposed neck of an northman before lopping the head of a spear that came for him, raking his blade across a third foes face on his backslash.

"For Eddard!" a voice rang out. "For Eddard and Winterfell!" Lann spun to see the rather interesting sight of a northern knight thundering at Tyrion Lannister, swinging the spiked ball of a morning star around his head. Their warhorses slammed together and before Lann could blink the small dwarf had flew from his saddle, landing on the ground with what Lann assumed would be a rather amusing thud. "Do you yield?" The knight loomed over the dwarf, brave man, Lann thought mockingly as he dismounted to limp up behind the fool and drive Red Rain into the back of his skull.

"Lord Tyrion," Lann offered the dwarf his hand. "A battlefield is a queer place for a nap."

"I found it quite relaxing actually," Tyrion got to his feet. "Thank you my lord."

The sound of hooves coming up behind him made Tyrion whirl, through he could scarcely lift his sword due to what seemed to Lann like a rather serious blow to the dwarfs elbow, but that's what happens when you send a dwarf into the vanguard. "Small use you turned out to be," Tyrion addressed his sellsword.

"It would seem you did well enough on your own," He answered.

"Aye well enough," Lann replied as one of his men handed the reigns of his horse to him. "Your alive, so I would not complain too much."

"Thank you again." Tyrion looked up at the Lord of Castamere who had knights flocking to him with reports of the battle like a hundred ravens eager to please their lord, there were even some minor lords among them it seemed, speaking to Lann as if it it was a red lion flying over Casterly and not a gold one. "My lord?"

"M'lord, your wounded!" One of Reyne's men panicked at the realization, but his lord didn't seem to care.

"Lord Tyrion," Lann looked away as one of his knights took a knee and began to bandage his lords wound. "Think nothing of it."

The trumpets sounded again and Lord Tywin finally joined the battle as his reserve came sweeping up along the river. Tyrion watched as Lord Lann took his knights whom still had mounts, riding to join in the slaughter despite his wounded leg, the crimson lion of Castamere joined with the gold of Casterly as they thundered across the field. Five hundred or so heavy knights, sunlight flashing off the points of their lances. The remnants of the Stark lines shattered like glass beneath the hammer of their charge.

"A fine victory," Ser Kevan said when he saw Tyrion. "Your wild men fought well."

"Did that surprise you, Father?" Tyrion asked. "Did it upset your plans? We were supposed to be butchered, were we not?"

Tywin drained his cup, his face expressionless. "I put the least disciplined men on the left, yes. I anticipated that they would brake. Robb Stark is a green boy, more like to be brave than wise. I'd hoped that if he saw our left collapse, he might plunge into the gap, eager for a rout. Once he was fully committed, Ser Keva's pikes would wheel and take him in the flank, driving him into the river while I brought up the reserve."

"And you thought it best to place me in the midst of this carnage, yet keep me ignorant of your plans."

"A feigned rout is less convincing," Tywin said, "and I am not inclined to trust my battle plans to a man who consorts with sellswords and savages."

"A pity my savages ruined your dance." Tyrion pulled off his steel gauntlet and le tit fall to the ground, wincing at the pain.

"The Stark boy proved more cautious than I expected for one of his years," Lord Tywin admitted, "but a victory is a victory. You appear to be wounded."

Tyrions right arm was socked with blood. "Good of you to notice, Father," he said through clenched teeth. "If not for Lord Reyne however it would no doubt be far worse."

"Then you should be grateful that-"

An urgent shout of "Lord Tywin!" turned Tywins head before he could reply. Tywin rose to his feet as Ser Addam Marbrand leapt down off his courser. The horse was lathered and bleeding at the mouth. Ser Addam dropped to one knee, a rangy man with dark copper hair that fell to his shoulders, armored in burnished bronzed steel with the fiery tree of his house etched black on his breastplate. "My liege, we have take some of their commanders. Lord Cerwyn, Ser Wylis Manderly, Harrison Karstark, four Freys. Lord Hornwood is dead, and I fear Roose Bolton escaped us."

"And the boy?" Lord Tywin asked as Lann moved up silently behind him.

Ser Addam hesitated. "The Stark boy was not with them, my lord. They say he crossed the Twins with the great part of his horse, riding hard for Riverrun."

_"Robb." _Lann thought as his eyes went wide at the realization, his boy would be at Riverrun, he'd been overjoyed to become Lymond's page.

* * *

The silence was broken by the sound of hooves, screaming and the clashing of steel. Robb awoke to Ser Lymond Vikary dragging him from his tent. "No matter what happens lad, you stay close to me." Lymond commanded, eyes darting back and forth at his surroundings as the encampment burned around them. "Do you hear me boy!?"

Robb tried to answer but fear had overcome him. "I-"

Lymond took a knee in the mud, "Remember what your father taught you?"

"I am a lion," Robb hesitated.

"And what are your words!?" Lymond grabbed the boys shoulders as he spoke.

"Long and Sharp!" Robb all but screamed, fighting back the tears.

"Good," Lymond rose. "Now we must-" Robb's eyes went wide as a mounted solider rode past, slashing Lymond across his back and sending him back down to the mud. "Run." Ser Lymond muttered, spitting blood in the process before collapsing to his side, dead. Robb recalled his family words and grabbed Lymonds dagger before bolting towards the edge of the burning camp. "Run," a voice repeated itself in Robbs head. "Run," again and again in a woman's voice this time until a sharp pain struck him and the voice changed once more, "Leave the lad alone Elly."


	13. Chapter 13: Surrounded by Lions

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire by George RR Martin, i do however own the non-canon character(s) of this story. This is purely a work of my personal enjoyment so i ask you to not expect anything worthy of the great GRRM. I fully welcome criticism/suggestions as this is my first attempt at a fanfiction. The story will eventually be finished (i hate leaving things unfinished) but i have no real schedule. Please review as i'd love the feedback.

* * *

Notes: I was going to give Ellyn a chapter here but she'll wait till later, will no doubt have some insight into Robb's (our Robb) current situation. Things will begin to get more out of canon once the events of the Blackwater take place, but up until then the Reynes are in the shadows for a reason; they don't have the manpower (yet) to go into open war with Tywin. I could've made them join Eddard back when he was imprisoned but that would've left Castamere to suffer the consequences.

* * *

**Chapter 13: Surrounded by Lions**

"Are you certain?" Arthur asked, leaning forward onto his desk.

"I would not bring this to you if I were not, my lords," Varys said. "I am certain."

Arthur sighed, "This complicates things."

"On the contrary this makes things very simple." Varys replied with a small grin on his lips.

"Simple?" Tygett laughed, "Nothing is ever simple. She is the daughter of the Mad King, how do we know if the girl is sane?"

"Every time a Targaryen is born, the gods toss a coin in the air and the world holds its breath to see how it will land," Arthur echoed words he'd read somewhere. "Viserys was his fathers son, what if the girl is no better, what if she commands her dragons to burn everyone that disagrees with her and laughs while they turn to ash?"

"She shows no signs of the taint. In the right hands the girl could made a fine Queen, and with the right King at her-"

"You'll forgive us for not believing your little birds on such a matter Varys," Arthur rose from his desk, knocking his chair to the ground in the process. "Are you so foolish to believe the girl would give up her right to be Queen? She has dragons, no doubt the beasts bring a certain sense of entitlement, history speaks for itself my lord."

"Calm yourself brother," Tygett interrupted. "Varys merely tells us what he has heard. If the girl has dragons this may indeed change things, yet the Targaryens place female claimants in the line of succession behind all possible male ones, even collateral relations, least they experience another Dance of Dragons. That is the law."

Arthur rolled his eyes, "A Lannister bastard sits the Iron Throne, where are your laws dear brother? If the girl has dragons she can rewrite the-"

"M'lord." A guard knocked at the door. "Queen Cersei _requests_ an audience."

Arthur noted that Varys and his brother had already vanished via the secret entrance to the barracks, so he picked up his chair and took a seat. "Let her in."

"Commander." Cersei entered with her default golden smile, she wanted something from him that much was clear.

"Your Grace. To what do I owe this pleasure?" Arthur smiled, full of enough sweetness to kill. "I would not have expected you to visit the barracks, and at this ungodly hour."

"You've turned the watch into a formidable force, commander-"

"Call me Arthur." His smile turned devilish as Arthur made himself comfortable in his chair, wielding his violet eyes as if he were Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. "We're the only ones here my queen, no need for such formalities among friends. What can I do for you this night?"

"Arthur," She took the bait well enough as her smile became noticeably more genuine. "As I was saying the watch is formidable, I have ever confidence of your ability."

Arthur laughed on the inside, foolish woman. "You honor me, Cersei. Take a seat."

"I prefer to stand." She said, maintaining her smile.

"I insist." Arthur countered, it was not a request. "Sit, tell me what I can do for you."

She took the seat reluctantly. "I have a task for you and your men, one of the utmost importance."

Arthur took the note from her hand, being sure to make eye contact as they touched hands for a moment. "A heavy thing you ask of me, Cersei. To kill, nay, slaughter ones so young. What is their crime, if I may ask?" He knew the answer and he didn't expect she would be willing to reveal it to him, not yet at least.

"They are enemies of the crown," Cersei continued her smile. "Is that not enough?"

"Without question. It shall be as you say," Arthur paused. "I'll have something of you in return however."

"What?" She spoke after a moment of silence, her smile died.

"Walk with me." Arthur stated bluntly. "I often walk the streets before I retire for the night, the city can be oddly beautiful at this hour and it would no doubt be even more so with you at my side. This is all I ask in return, the pleasure of my queens company on such beautiful night."

"A walk?" Cersei raised an eyebrow at the notion. "That is your request?"

"Yes," Arthur rose from his seat. "Do we have an accord Lady Cersei?"

Arthur handed her letter to the captain who would deal with the bastards. A little charm coupled with the use of his mothers eyes to remind the woman of her Prince and Cersei Lannister would fall into his hands, that and the offer of the odd compliment to remind her of a title she no longer had any right to claim. They walked for a time under the stars until they arrived at the Red Keep where Arthur kissed her hand and departed without a word. "Enjoy your walk, m'lord?" His captain approached him from the shadows with a devilish grin, sword bloody from the nights work.

"Sickeningly so," Arthur noted the blood on the mans sword. "Is it done?"

"What's done is done although we couldn't find the blacksmith lad, must have fled the city." The captain spoke, wiping the blood from his sword using his golden cloak. "May I ask something m'lord, you've always said we should be open with you..."

"Aye, speak your mind Deem." Arthur was curious, by the look of the sly grin on the mans face he-

"Have you slept with the Queen, m'lord?"

Arthur laughed and placed a hand on his friends shoulder. "I don't fuck whores." They stopped at the nearest Inn, returning to the barracks with drinks to lift spirits after the nights ugly events, none would be happy to have carried out these orders, Arthur knew that, but at the end of the day they'd blame the Queen and hatred for the royals would grow tenfold. "To the Realm!" Arthur gave a toast as the men echoed his words. "TO THE REALM!"

* * *

"Who told them to open the gate?" Joffrey demanded. With the troubles in the city, the gates of the Red Keep had been closed for days now.

A column of riders emerged from beneath the portcullis with a clink of steel and clatter of hooves. Clegane stepped closer to the king, one hand on the hilt of his longsword. The visitors were finted and haggard and dusty, they the standard they carried was the lion of Lannister, golden on its crimson field. A few wore the red cloaks and mail of Lannister men-at-arms, but more were freeriders and sellswords, armored in oddments and bristling with sharp steel. Tygett noted the others too, savages clad in shabby skins and boiled leather. In their midst, riding on a tall red horse in high saddle, was Tyrion Lannister, the Imp.

Tyrion went to one knee before the king. "Your Grace."

"You," Joffrey said.

"Me," the Imp agreed, "although a more courteous greeting might be in order, for an uncle and an elder."

"They said you were dead," the Hound said.

Tyrion gave Clegane a look. One of his eyes green, one was black, and both were cool. "I was speaking to the king, not his cur."

"_I'm_ glad your not dead," said Princess Myrcella.

"We share that view, sweet child." Tyrion turned to Sansa. "My lady, I am sorry for your losses. Truly, the gods are cruel. I am sorry for your loss as well, Joffrey."

"What loss?"

"Your royal father? A large fierce man with a black beard. You'll recall him if you try. He was king before you."

"Oh, _him_. Yes, it was very sad, a boar killed him."

"Is that what they say, Your Grace?"

Joffrey frowned and Tygett was smiling on the inside while Sansa attempted to change the subject. "I'm sorry my lady mother took you captive, my lord."

"A great many people are sorry for that," Tyrion replied, "and before I am done some will be a deal sorrier... yet I thank you for the sentiment. Joffrey, where might I find your mother?"

"She's with my council," the king answered. "Your brother Jaime keeps losing battles." He gave Sansa an angry look, as if it were her fault. "He's been taken by the Starks and we've lost Riverrun and now her stupid brother is calling himself a king."

The dwarf smiled crookedly. "All sorts of people are calling themselves kings these days."

Joffrey clearly didn't know what to make of that, though he looked suspicious and out of sorts. "Yes. Well. I am pleased your not dead, uncle. Did you bring me a gift for my name day?"

"I did. My wits."

"I'd sooner have Robb Starks head," Joffrey said, with a sly glance at Sansa. "Tommen, Myrcella, come."

Clegane lingered for a moment. "I'd guard that tongue of yours, little man," he warned, before Tygett silently signaled him to follow the boy and he strode off.

"Your wounded," Tygett spoke while Sansa looked in silence.

"A northman hit me with a morningstar during the battle of the Green Fork. I escaped him by falling off my horse and being saved by your lord father." His grin turned into something softer as he studied Sansa's face. "Is it grief for your father that makes you so sad my lady?"

"My father was a traitor," Sansa said at once. "And my brother and lady mother are traitors as well." That reflex she'd learnt quickly. "I am loyal to my beloved Joffrey."

"As loyal as a deer surrounded by lions." Tygett said, making no attempt to hide his meaning.

Tyrion reached out and took her hand, and gave it a squeeze. "I am only a little lion, child, and I vow, I shall not savage you." Bowing, he said, "But now you must excuse me. I have urgent business with the queen and council. Tyrion gave a nod to Tygett and left in some haste, his body swaying from side to side with every step.

"Come my lady," Tygett offered his charge a smile before walking in the opposite direction of the council room.

"You," Cersei said, in a tone that was equal parts disbelief and distaste.

"I can see where Joffrey learned his courtesies." Tyrion paused to admire the paid of Valyrian sphinxes that guarded the door, affecting the air of casual confidence. Arthur sat on the council as always, although now closer to Cersei than in previous meetings. His violet eyes studding the dwarf as he entered, like a lion protecting his den.

"What are you doing here?" Cersei's lovely green eyes stared at her brother without a hint of affection.

"Delivering a letter from our lord father." He sauntered to the table and placed a tightly trolled parchment between them.

Varys moved to take the letter, but Arthur was quicker. "How kind of Lord Tywin. And his sealing wax is such a lovely shade of gold, gives it every appearance of being genuine." He held out the parchment for Cersei to handle. "For your eyes no doubt, lady Cersei."

"This is absurd," the queen said at last. "My lord father has sent my brother to sit in his place in this council. He bids us accept Tyrion as the Hand of the King until such a time as he himself as join us."

Pycelle stroked his flowing beard and nodded ponderously. "It would seem that a welcome is in order."

"Indeed," Arthur chimed in. "although I fear there is little for you to do here Lord Tyrion, rebellion aside, the capital sleeps like a new born babe."

"Quite," Cersei smiled at her newest puppet. "As for you, Tyrion, you could better serve us on the field of battle."

He laughed. "No, I'm done with the fields of battle, thank you. I sit a chair better than a horse, and I'd sooner hold a wine goblet than a battleaxe. All that about the thunder of drums, sunlight flashing on armor, magnificent destriers sorting and prancing? Well, the drums gave me headaches, the sunlight flashing on armor cooked me up like a harvest day goose, and those magnificent destriers shit _everywhere. _Not that I am complaining. Compared to the hospitality I enjoyed in the Vale of Arryn, drums, horseshit and fly bites are my favorite things."

Lightfinger laughed. "Well said, Lannister. A man after my own heart."

Tyrion smiled at him, by no means a warm thing. "Please," he spoke, "do let me be of service, in whatever _small_ way I can."

Arthur read the letter for himself. "How many men have you brought with you?"

"A few hundred. My own men, chiefly. Father was loath to part with any of his. Although _your_ father was gracious enough to offer me a handful of Castamere knights."

"What use will a few hundred men be if Renly marches on the city, or Stannis sails from Dragonstone? I asked for an army and my father sends me a dwarf. The king names the Hand, with the consent of council. Joffrey named our lord father." Cersei was furious, but Arthur knew Lord Tywin wouldn't bow to his daughters commands for an army.

"And our lord father named me."

"He cannot do that. Not without Joff's consent."

"Lord Tywin is at Harrenhal with his host, if you'd care to take it up with him," Tyrion said politely. "My lords, perchance you would permit me a private word with my sister?"

Varys slithered to his feet, smiling in that unctuous way he did. "How you must have yearned for the sound of your sister's voice. My lords, please, let us give them a few moments together. The woes of our troubled realm shall keep." Arthur bowed to the queen before following Varys. Littlefinger was the last to leave, as always.

* * *

"The Starks have overextended their lines," a practically foolish lord spoke. "Now that summers over they'll have a hard time keeping their men and horse fed."

Lann narrowed his eyes at the fool. "The Starks understand Winter better than we southerners ever will, the cold wont stop them."

"Our spies report growing discontent among the northern lords," another fool spoke. "They want to return home and gather the harvest."

"And I am sure if those same spies ventured into our own encampments they would report growing discontent among the _southern_ lords," Tywin spoke. "This is war, no ones content. We've underestimated the Stark boy for too long, he's a good mind for warfare, his men worship him and so long as he keeps winning battles they'll keep believing he is King in the North."

"Lord Tywin is right," Lann finished his wine and signaled for the cupbearer. "We've been waiting for him to fail but the boy is not going to simply fail."

"Not without our help," Tywin paused and Lann knew he was waiting for his council to council. "So how do we stop him?"

Lann didn't entirely hear what happened next, some foolishness that brought about Tywins annoyance but Lann was focused on the girl serving the drinks. _"I remember your face"_ he thought to himself, noticing how the girl was avoiding eye contact. Not so unusual for a lowborn girl perhaps but-

"Girl." Tywin addressed the girl, bringing Lann out of his train of thought for a moment. "Where are you from?"

"Maidenpool, my lord." She replied calmly, the girl seemingly having no issue looking the great Lord Tywin in the eyes. Odd...

"And who are the lords of Maidenpool, remind me."

"House Mooton, my lord." The girl had no issue staring him in the eyes and, perhaps most importantly, addressed him as my lord. She was not lowborn.

"And what is their sigil?" She clearly didn't know so Tywin answered for her. "A red salmon. I'd think a Maidenpool girl would remember that."

"She northern." Lann stated bluntly to the shock of those present, besides Tywin who just seemed annoyed that he'd interrupted his line of questions.

The girl gave a nod in response and Tywin replied in kind. "Good. Now one more time, where are you from?"

She answered quickly, "Barrowton, my lord. House Dustin. Two crossed long axes beneath a black crown." Perhaps a little too quickly, another lie it seemed.

"And what do they say of Robb Stark in the North?" Tywin it seemed had accepted the girls lie as a truth.

"They call him the Young Wolf," The girl began with a hint of pride. "They say he rides into battle on the back of a giant direwolf and that he can turn into a wolf himself when he wants, they say he cannot be killed." Her name came to him in that moment, the young wolf girl that Arthur found on the road to Darry. Arya Stark.

"And do you believe them?"

"No, my lord." The girl stared Tywin in the eyes. "Anyone can be killed."


	14. Chapter 14: A Feast of Lies

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire by George RR Martin, i do however own the non-canon character(s) of this story. This is purely a work of my personal enjoyment so i ask you to not expect anything worthy of the great GRRM. I fully welcome criticism/suggestions as this is my first attempt at a fanfiction. The story will eventually be finished (i hate leaving things unfinished) but i have no real schedule. Please review as i'd love the feedback.

* * *

Notes: Arthur plays the game, reluctantly. Tygett will step up as he's always done with current events being the perfect excuse to further his fathers wishes. What did/do you think of the Cersei part? I'm not great at 'suggestive' scenes so to speak, normally fading to black and showing the next morning but in this instance it's the Bitch Queen and we all know what her favorite weapon is... not that you'll ever get anything too graphic from me... not counting blood and guts. :P

* * *

**Chapter 14: A Feast of Lies**

"More wine?" Tyrion asked.

"I'll not object," Arthur said, hold up his cup. "A fine red, although I must confess wine is not my area of expertise."

"It's dornish." Tyrion gestured, and his serving man poured. But for the servant, he and Arthur were alone in the Small Hall, at a candle lit table surrounded by darkness. "Quite the find. Dornish wine are not often so rich."

"Rich indeed, my lord" Arthur took a sip, oddly enough he didn't hate the wine. He was never a fan of wine.

"I'm pleased you like it... but please call me Tyrion."

"As you wish." He took another sip. "I must say I am considering stealing this cook of yours, Tyrion."

The dwarf covered his mouth and belched politely. "Wars have been fought over less," he said, and they both had a good long laugh at the notion. Arthur had enjoyed the meal for the most part, Tyrions motives aside, they supped on oxtail soup, summer greens with pecans, grapes, red funnel and crumbled cheese, hot crab pie, spiced squash, and quails drowned in butter. Arthur had admitted he'd never eaten so much since his appointment to the city watch.

"More wine?"

"No." Arthur gestured the severing lad away, "I couldn't drink or eat another bite."

"I've been glancing over the names of your officers." Tyrion put his cup aside.

Arthur's merry mood quickly turned sour. "Why ruin a good dinner with talk of business?"

"This one," Tyrion put a finger over a single name. "Allar Deem."

Arthur signed. "Aye, what of him?"

"He is little loved in the streets, I am told."

"He's feared. That is too often better."

"What was it I heard of him? Some trouble in a brothel?"

"That." Arthur paused. "Not his fault, Tyrion. No. He had orders not to kill the women, but certain things cannot be avoided."

"Still... mothers and children, he might have expected she'd try to save the babe." Tyrion smiled. "Have some of this cheese, it goes splendidly with the wine. Tell me, why did you choose Deem for that unhappy task?" Tyrion asked as Arthur pushed the cheese aside. He was quite full, of more than just the food.

"A good commander knows his men, Tyrion. Some are good for one job, some for another. Doing for a babe, and still on the tit, that takes a certain sort. Not every man would do it. If I had sent another man, the job may not have gotten done."

"I suppose that's so," said Tyrion.

"Shall we cut to the chase, my Lord of Lannister?" Arthurs smile turned dark. "I do so hate these games."

Tyrion was taken aback by Arthur's bluntness, although he hid it better than most. "Eddard Stark."

"What of him?" Arthur's smiled faced and in it's place stood nothing, his eyes focused on the dwarf as a lion stalking it's prey. "He tried to buy me, the man was a traitor."

"Little dreaming that you had already been sold."

"The arrogance of such a little lion," Arthur laughed at the notion. "What now, dwarf?"

"Dwarf?" Tyrion's anger flashed. "I believe you know Ser Jacelyn Bywater, our new Commander of the City Watch?"

"That I do," Arthur smiled at his officer who'd just entered the room, flanked by other two cloaks. _"Jacelyn would fall into line if I gave the word,"_ Arthur thought to himself as he kept his grin and Tyrion ranted on about this and that. _"He underestimates their loyalty, although this provides an opportunity if played correctly. Let him think he's won."_

"I wouldn't feel safe with you leading the guard," The dwarf finished his speech. "You are dismissed from your command."

Silence filled the room as Arthur merely kept smiling, locking eyes with his officers to speak words that need not be spoken, he understand well enough. "It seems I placed too much trust in your Ser Jacelyn, to betray me so, where is your honor now eh?" Lies, but Tyrion would expect anger from him.

"I am sorry my lord," Jacelyn played his part well. "but I could not condone the murder of children."

Arthur stood up from his seat, making sure to knock it to the ground for added effect. "You have children of your own, gods pray nothing happens to them. Treason has a way of coming back to bite you twice as hard!" He turned to stare at Tyrion, "House Reyne dose not forget debts little Lannister, you'll pay for this in time."

"I think not." Tyrion did not bulk from the challenge, brave for one so small. "Ser Jacelyn, escort him to his chambers."

"This way my lord," Jacelyn shifted to the side to allow Arthur passage as he stormed from the room, hand on his swords hilt.

Arthur made quite the show if things while being escorted to his chambers, the walls had eyes and those eyes would report exactly what he wished them to see. "That'll do Jace, you may leave me now." Arthur spoke in a whisper. "Guard the city well in my absence, you know what needs to be done."

"Yes my-" Arthur punched him across the face, again for effect. It would leave a mark.

"Leave me!" He yelled for all ears to hear, "Traitor!"

The first order of business was discussing matters with his wife, whom knew only the lie as she could not be trusted with the truth, she would be escorted from the city by Arthur's personal guard the moment she was prepared. The second order was paying a visit to the queen mother, whom would no doubt he furious at the loss of her alleged puppet. "Your Grace," Arthur spoke from behind the queens door.

"Enter." She spoke after a long delay, the hour was late and Arthur easily assumed the queen thought he'd finally come to 'visit' her as she so often suggested.

"Y- Your Grace," He almost choked on the words, despite the time he'd spent outside her door, the queen was in her nightdress.

"Shut the door commander," She spoke with a sly grin.

He did so, a little more at loss for words than he thought he'd be in this situation. _"Your stronger than this Reyne,"_ He found himself thinking frantically as he turned around to shut the door. _"You'll not fall for her tricks. Your not her puppet. It was all for show, your the true mas-"_

She let her nightdress fall from her shoulders to the floor, leaving Arthur completely dumbstruck. "Finally come to your senses I see," She walked closer to him. "I was beginning to doubt you enjoyed the company of women my dear commander." She began stroking his hair and looking into his violet eyes.

"I-" Arthur tried to shake himself out of it. "Your, GRACE!" The words blurted out of him as Cersei got down to her knees and the realization hit him. "You flatter me," Arthur began rambling as the queen looked up at him with one eyebrow raised and a look of confusion and anger. "It's not that I don't want to, but-"

"You deny me," Cersei was furious, or perhaps furious was not the word. This was something more.

"No!" Arthur blurted out. "I would never insult you so my queen, but your brother-"

"My brother?" She looked more defensive than anything, perhaps because she thought he was speaking of Jaime.

"Tyrion," Cersei had got back to her feet and now sat on her bed with her legs crossed, awaiting a good explanation. "He invited me dinner under false pretenses and stripped me of my position," That got her anger directed elsewhere and Arthur thanked the gods. "I thought you should be made aware of the events, Tyrion clearly moves against the crown and I thought it my duty-"

"Yes," She raised a hand to silence him. "You did well as always Ser Arthur, we will have words with my brother and see this undone. The king will not have his loyal councilors dismissed under such unjust conditions. Until then," Her smiled returned as he returned to her previous endeavor. "We should not let this effect out night."

"I had another thought, Your Grace."

She was not happy to be interrupted again. "What now, Ser?"

"I think it best that we allow your brother this small victory," Arthur remained calm. "Many of those loyal to the crown have expressed a desire to take the fight to the enemy and your brother has given us an opportunity to do just that, allow me to join my father and Lord Tywin at Harrenhal."

"You would abandon our fair city?"

"Lord Tywin will need every sword he can get to end the northern conflict and the city watch has grown ten fold under my command, those most loyal will do as I request and remain behind to hold the city walls." In truth those most loyal would come with him, but she didn't need to know that. "Should the worst come to pass your lord father will without a doubt come to lift any siege the usurpers may attempt; his host being that much stronger by the addition of myself and my men."

The queens demeanor changed rabidly the moment she knew he was no longer Commander of the City Watch and did not intend to give her the opportunity to regain him said position, a favor she no doubt planned to hold over him, among other things. "You would still haft the city watch..."

"Taking those of lesser loyalty with me, Your Grace." Arthur sighed in relief as the bitch backed away and began to cover herself. "Lord Tywin would quickly whip them into shape while those of unquestionable loyalty remained in the city to hold the walls until your lord father and myself arrived to lift any siege."

"As you wish," She finally consented. "You may leave now."

He bowed and took his leave, finally being able to relax himself although the image of the queen naked and on her knees was not one he could shake easily. _"Lelia"_ He thought as he rushed to his wives chambers, she would still be packing for the road ahead. Her tourney would have to be delayed for awhile yet.

* * *

Tygett was changing shifts when he found his brother walking awkwardly through the hallway, he'd guarded the Queen long enough to have seen this before but hadn't expect his own brother to fall so low. Arthur stopped dead in his tracks when he came across his brother. "You didn't." Tygett spoke, more a command than a question.

"No!" He was quick to deny. "It was not for lack of-"

"Your married." Tygett said in a whisper, it wouldn't do for anyone to hear.

"I know that," Arthur replied as he tried to stare his brother down. "I'd never do that to Lelia. I had good reason to visit the queen at this hour, do you think so little of me to assume the worst brother? Tonight is hardly the first time the women has propositioned me and who's bloody fault is that? Yours and Fathers for-"

"Enough!" Tygett hushed his brother. "What have I told you about letting your anger get the better of you? Now tell me your reason for the visit."

Arthur sighed, knowing he'd said too much too openly. "The dwarf has dismissed me from my position, Jacelyn is the new Commander of the City Watch."

"Cersei would easily regain you the position."

"She offered," Arthur's grin betrayed him for a moment as he recalled the conversation. "You said-"

Tygett interrupted him again, gods his brother had a loose tongue around family. "I know what I said. Your leaving the city?"

"Tonight." Arthur nodded, finally accepting that they shouldn't speak openly. "As I told Her Grace, those most loyal to the crown will remain in the city while I take the others to meet with Lord Tywin and father at Harrenhal. I have no doubt the knights father sent south with Lord Tyrion will join me also, once they learn of his slight towards me."

"Good." Tygett agreed, knowing full well that the loyal ones would in fact go with his brother rather than staying behind. "The knights _will_ go with you, I shall see to it."

Arthur bowed, "My thanks brother." Tygett rolled his eyes in response and the two brothers went their separate ways each with their own duty, the red going to war while the white prepared themselves for the coming days. House Reyne continued to play their game from the shadows, although that could not last forever.

* * *

"House Reyne sends it's regards." The man whispered as he brought cold steel across a red cloaks neck, the dark red pouring from his neck matching nicely with his crimson attire. The man took a moment to smile at the thought as the Lannister fool choked to death. "Alright lads, you know what to do. See it done."

Others emerged from the shadows and entered the room that now stood unguarded, they left via the same door moments later carrying crates with _great_ care. "That's all we can carry." One of the men spoke to their leader, the one who opened the guard from ear to ear. "Will it be enough?"

He carefully lifted the crates lid to peek inside. "This is the stuff. It'll be plenty, nice work."

"What of the guard?" The other man asked, giving a nod to his friends whom began hauling away the crates.

"What of me?" A man in Lannister red joined in their conversation, a smile on his face.

The other man gave a nod, knowing better than to dig deeper. The leader spoke to the new guard once his friends had all departed with the goods. "What did you see this night?" He asked, an eyebrow raised and a hand on his sword. The dead guard was being carried away, his blood cleaned up.

"Nothing," The guard answered before pointing where the dead guard once laid. "I relieved Damon there not an hour ago, haven't had any trouble."

The leader shook the guards hand and took his leave, following his friends back into the dark of night with their new cargo. He had no real idea why his lord wanted this pig shit, but he was not one to question orders, whatever the use he had no doubt it was bloody important. He just wished he could be there to see the plan executed, whatever the plan actually was.


	15. Chapter 15: Wolves and Ruins

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire by George RR Martin, I do however own the non-canon character(s) of this story. This is purely a work of my personal enjoyment so I ask you to not expect anything worthy of the great GRRM. I fully welcome criticism/suggestions as this is my first attempt at a fanfiction. The story will eventually be finished (I hate leaving things unfinished) but I have no real schedule. Please review as I'd love the feedback.

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Notes: I've almost got another chapter of Sunset Starks done. I'm also thinking of two new OC/What If stories, and scrapping Age of Kingdoms. :P

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**Chapter 15: Wolves and Ruins**

Tygett stood behind the boy king near the archery butts, trying to ignore the whimpering of a small yellow cat that was dying on the ground, mewling piteously, a crossbow through its ribs. His thoughts wondered as the Stark girl arrived as summoned, he envisioned himself driving a sword through he alleged brother, Ser Boros, before turning the steel on the bastard boy, removing his head from his shoulders and preceding to spirit the Stark girl away. He could do it too, it would be all too easy...

"Your Grace," Sansa fell to her knees.

"Kneeling won't save you now," the boy said. "Stand up. You're here to answer for your brother's latest treason's."

"Your Grace, whatever my traitor brother has done, I had no part. You know that, I beg you, please-"

"Ser Lancel," Joffrey said. "tell her of this outrage."

The queens latest bed warmer stepped forward. "Using some vile sorcery, your brother fell upon Ser Stafford Lannister with an army of demon wargs, not three days ride from Lannisport. Thousands of good men were butchered as they slept, without the chance to lift sword. After the slaughter, the northmen feasted on the flesh of the slain."

_"Good gods, somebody kill this fool."_ Tygett thought, fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

"You have nothing to say?" asked Joffrey.

"Your Grace, the poor child is shocked witless," murmured Se Dontos.

"Silence, fool." Joffrey lifted his crossbow and pointed it at her face. "You Starks are as unnatural as those wolves of yours. I've not forgetten how your monster savaged me."

"That was Arya's wolf," she said. "Lady never hurt you, but you killed her anyway."

"No, your father did," Joffrey said, "but I killed your father. I wish I'd done it myself. I killed a man last night who was bigger than your father. They came to the gate shouting my name and calling for bread like I was some baker, but I taught them better. I shot the loudest one right through the throat."

"And he died?" With the ugly iron head of the quarrel staring her in the face, it was hard for her to think of anything else to say.

"Of course he died, he had my arrow in his throat. There was a women throwing rocks, I got her as well, but only in the arm." Frowning, he lowered the crossbow. "I'd shoot you too, but if I do mother says they'd kill my uncle Jaime. Instead you'll just be punished and we'll send word to your brother about what will happen to you if he doesn't yield. Dog, hit her."

"Let me beat her!" Ser Dontos shoved forward, tin armor clattering. He was armed with a "morningstar" whose head was a melon. Tygett admired the fool in that moment, trying to save his lady much in the same way Sansa had saved him from Joffrey some time ago. He trotted his broomstick horse around her, shouting "Traitor, traitor" and whacking her over the head with the melon. Sansa covered herself with her hands, staggering every time the fruit pounded her, her hair sticky by the second blow. People were laughted. The melon flew to pieces. Joffrey it seemed was not satisfied.

"Tygett. Boros." Joffrey called and Boros moved forward, seizing Dontos by the arm and flinging him brusquely away. The red-faced fool went sprawling, broomstick, melon, and all. Ser Boros seized Sansa and Tygett shot him a stare, the man was a coward, he greatly loosened his grip. "Leave her face," Joffrey commanded. "I like her pretty."

Boros hesitated, keeping eye contact with Tygett who said nothing. Taking the silence as permission he slammed a fist into Sansa's belly, driving the air out of her. When she doubled over, the knight grabbed her hair and drew his sword, gaining a cold stare from Tygett that spoke "she dies, and you die." He laid the flat of the blade across her thighs and Sansa screamed from the force of the blow, tears welling up in her eyes.

"That's enough!" Tygett commanded, causing Boros to all but shit himself.

"No it isn't," The king replied. "Boros, make her naked."

Ser Boros hesitated and laid eyes on Tygetts hand, that was gripping the hilt of his sword. "What is the meaning of this?" A voice drew all attention away from the fact that Tygett was seconds away from killing his sworn brother as one butchers a pig. "Is this your notion of chivalry, Ser Boros?" Tyrion Lannister demanded angrilt. His pet sellsword stood with him, eyeing Tygetts sword with a hint of concern. "What sort of knight beats helpless maids?"

"The sort who-"

"The sort who will keep his mouth shut." Tygett cut off the fool, signalling for guards to help Sansa up from the floor.

Tyrion's attention return to his nephew after briefly making eye contact with Tygett. "This girl's to be your queen," the Imp told Joffrey. "Have you no regard for her honor?"

"I'm punishing her."

" For what crime? She did not fight her brother's battles."

"She has the blood of a wolf."

"And you have the wits of a goose."

"You cant talk to me that way. The king can do as he likes."

"Aerys Targaryen did as he liked. Has your mother ever told you what happened to him?"

Ser Boros Blount _harrumphed_ but kept his mouth shut, as warned. Sansa was escorted out by some Reyne men and Tygett remained at the kings side, dangerously close to Boros. Tygett kept silent for the rest of the encounter, having said enough for a good while. He prayed his brother was having a better day than he, gods he hated the capital.

* * *

Arthur was at the head of the column, the lion of Castamere flying proudly in the wind as his party laid eyes on Harrenhal. _"To see this place in it's glory days,"_ Arthur thought to himself as he recalled the first time he'd seen the great ruin that was Harrenhal. In it's day, before the conquest, it would would have been the largest castle ever constructed with it's colossal curtain walls high as mountain cliffs and gatehouse as large as Winterfell's Great Keep. A true seat of kings, in the end serving as nothing but a grave and constant reminder as to the power of dragon fire. "Fire and Blood." Arthur muttered to himself as he motioned his horse forward, his men were tired and this was no time for sightseeing.

At least haft of the city watch rode with him, along with a hundred or so knights of castamere whom rode closest to their lords son. The host of Lord Tywin seemed to have their spirits lifted as Arthur and his knights rode into the main courtyard, gaining many a nod of respect from the bystanders before finally coming across Tywin Lannister himself who it seemed was preparing to move out. "Commander." Tywin greeted him, seemingly unaware of his sons actions in the capital.

_"How could he not know?" _Arthur thought to himself before speaking aloud. He'd sent word to his father, they knew he was coming, surely Tywin was aware. "Lord Tywin, a pleasure. I'm no longer Commander however, did the raven not make it here ahead of us?"

"I'm aware of my sons actions." Tywin all but spat, no doubt his father had made a song and dance out of the hole situation to cause more trouble between Tywin and his alleged Heir. "It will be dealt with upon your return."

"I'm certain Lord Tyrion had his reasons," Arthur shrugged, still atop his horse while his knights began dismounting. "although I admit it was a shock, my time with the watch had been more than satisfactory. Or so I thought."

Tywin merely gave a nod in agreement before riding forward, speaking in passing. "Your father awaits you inside."

The golden lion passed by without another word, his guards following like his shadow. Arthur dismounted and made his way into what has the largest hall he'd ever seen. Thirty-four or thirty-five hearths by Arthur's count, with floors of smooth slate. The hall was more than large enough for all of Arthur's men and his fathers too, in fact Arthur could easily picture the hall being able to entertain an entire army. "Father," He bowed as his men began flooring into the hall and joining their comrades whom began greeting them with open arms. "This place is... quite something. Are we moving out? Tywin seemed in a rush."

"Aye," Lann spoke after giving his son a quick embrace. "Good work at the capital."

"I lost my position."

"Tywin will reinstate you," Lann explained.

"Cersei would have done so but I thought better of it. Your letter mentions a need for me?" Arthur spoke of one of the many coded letters his father had been sending in the past months of war, keeping his sons updated about the goings on from the front lines. The latest letter mentioned a need for Arthur to 'visit a ruin' and to 'bring the pig shit'. Tyrion's dismissal had given him an excuse to do both.

"Good." Lann nodded, the Lannisters had played so perfectly into his hands and he'd smile about it later. "Look at that girl." Lann darted his eyes over at a young serving girl, lowborn by the looks of her dirty attire and- "Do you know that girl? Think hard lad..."

_"Fuck me."_ Arthur thought, he'd seen her before. The same girl, or boy as she'd been mistaken for at the time, that they had found on the road to Darry. "Arya St-." He said aloud, not thinking. His father hit him over the head before he could finish saying the name, it hurt.

"Think before you speak!"

"Apologies father," Arthur rubbed his head.

"Am I correct then?"

Arthur took another look at the girl, who was pouring wine for some Reyne men-at-arms. "Aye," He nodded. "You are correct."

Lann paused to think, before looking at at his son. "Your thoughts?"

"The girl knows that you know?"

"We have spoken," Lann looked back at the girl who had now noticed Arthur's presence. "I ask again lad, your thoughts?"

Arthur paused, his brother was the first thing that came to mind. "We could trade her for Robb. If we're to hope that Robb Stark has him captive after the siege at Riverrun, but that is not a certainty father. He could be... you know..."

Lann had always been grateful that his true born children had accepted his bastard. "Aye, perhaps. Stark has sent no word however and he'll move North to deal with the Ironborn soon enough. Our spies claim Lord Tully is to wed some frey girl at the Twins."

"Stark may not know who he has," Arthur hoped. "he could've just-"

"No," Lann cut his son off. "Stark has his fathers damnable honor, just look at his Westerling wife and you'll see that."

"Speaking of the Westerlings, what the hells happened there?"

"Stark was wounded storming the Crag via some old goat paths through the mountains, gods know how he knew about that." Lann began to recall the events. "The Crag was the weakest target the boy could take, to the south he had Castamere and to the north would be the Banefort. Both targets he could not hope to storm before reinforcements arrived. The Westerling girl saw to his wounds, bedded him, became his Queen."

"How convenient for the Westerlings." Arthur joked, implying something.

"Indeed," Lann agreed. "If they plotted it remains to be seen. That's neither here nor there, if Stark has your brother I bloody well want him returned."

"As do I." Arthur agreed, smiling as Arya made eye contact and almost instantly looked away.

"Girl!" Lann called over to Arya, who reluctantly moved over the hall with her wine pitcher.

"M'lords," She spoke, having done as Lann previously suggested, saying m'lord rather than my lord.

"We meet again little wolf." Arthur smiled, not unkindly. "Your quite resourceful, huh?"

Arya said nothing, a faint smile betraying her at the use of the nickname that Tygett had used often.

"Sit," Lann pushed a chair out for the girl. "I want to know more about your brother."

"M- My brother?" She hesitated, eyes darting back and forth.

Arthur spoke next. "It's alright, nobody is within earshot and they are all our men regardless."

Arya took the seat, still not entirely trusting her newest 'friends'. "Why would I trust you..."

Arthur held a hand over his heart. "Once again you wound me, is this the thanks I get for freeing you from the capital?"

"You-" She paused to think, recalling how she'd escaped.

"Your welcome." Arthur smiled sadly. "I'm sorry about your friend, he was fast for a dancing master."

"You gave me a new name," Arya narrowed her eyes. "What was it?"

"Arry the Orphan." He replied. "In hindsight not the most creative of names, but I was in a rush."

"What do you want to know?"

"What's he like?" Lann asked, shooting a quick stare to his son. This was the first he'd heard of Arthur's little prison rescue and he was not pleased... although having the girls trust would be very useful. It was still a bloody foolish risk that could have ruined everything. _"Idiot," _Lann thought, sighing at his son taking such a foolish risk.

"Would he execute prisoners? Kill men under a peace banner?" Arthur asked the blunt questions, the girls wide-eyes being all the answer he needed.

"No!" She all but cried, scowling at the lion.

"I believe you," Arthur assured her.

Lann replied. "Your brother has something important to me."

"To us." Arthur added.

"What's that?" Arya rasied an eyebrow, curious.

"My brother," Arthur's smile returned. "Robb Hill. He's a bit younger than yourself actually, same adventurous spirit about him."

"His name's Robb?" She seemed shocked by that fact, a lion sharing her brothers name.

"Yes," Lann explained. "Named after an ancestor of ours. He was one of the finest knights of his time."

"We intend to trade you for my brother," Arthur placed a hand on the girls shoulder, snapping her out of her trance.

"I- I'm going home?" She had been promised that before it seemed, not trusting the words.

Arthur gave a nod, removing his hand from her shoulder and moving to take a sip of his wine. "If your brother has my brother, a simple trade of family."

"Tywin wont be happy." Arya said nervously.

"Tywin has no say in this." Lann answered with a growl, directed more elsewhere than at the wolf.

"What the Lannisters don't know wont hurt them," Arthur shrugged, a devious grin on his face for a moment. All that remained now was to send an envoy to Stark before he reached the Twins, and, Arthur recalled, he still needed to ask his father what in the seven hells they needed all that wildfire for. _"I pity the poor bastards that we use it against,"_ He thought as he drank the remains of his wine and politely asked Arya to pour him some more.

* * *

"You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection." The Septon spoke as Maric Sarsfield draped a dark green cloak with white lining around his brides shoulders. "In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one, for eternity." tying together the couples hands with a green silk ribbon. "Look upon one another and say the words." At this point, Maric and Ellyn turn to face each other and begin to recite their vows in unison.

"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger, I am hers and she is mine from this day until the end of my days."

"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger, I am his and he is mine from this day until the end of my days."

"Let it be known that Ellyn of the House Reyne and Maric of the House Sarsfield, are one heart and flesh, one soul." The septon paused, "Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder."

The hall erupted in cheers and soon husband and wife were carried off for the bedding. While Maric and his new wife were off preforming their duty, the present members of House Sarsfield were busy drinking and discussing matters with a young Robert Vikary, the Lady Ellyn's sworn shield. "Any word of your father Ser Robert?" One of the Sarsfields spoke, the uncle of the Lord if the young Vikary wasn't mistaken.

"None," Roberts expression turned dark at the mention of his father, having heard nothing since the Battle of the Camps.

Sarsfield seemed to bulk from the topic, seeing the young lads discomfort. "I pray for his health, the young bastard too. What was his name?"

"Robb." Robert's eyes darted at the word bastard. "The lads name _is_ Robb."

"Quite," Sarsfield had failed at small talk it seemed. "If you'll excuse me."

_"Thank the gods that one never inherited."_ Robert thought as the man walked away to what he could only assume was more promising company than he. Robert didn't practically care mind, he hated feasts and large crowds in general. He swore to protect Lady Ellyn. _"Yet here you stand,"_ The voice in his head taunted. _"And the women you love is in there, getting fu-" _He drowned out the voice with some wine.

"Who's in charge here!" A bloodied knight burst into the great hall, causing young Robert to drop his wine and draw his steel.

"What is the meaning of this!" The Sarsfield from earlier demanded.

The knight stormed towards Sarsfield while ignoring the steel that was on display in the hands of haft the halls guests. Short of the "m'lord" young Robert could hear nothing else of their conversation, having turned to hushed whispers the moment the knight knew he was speaking to the right man. _"Ellyn is in danger." _The voice taunted. _"She's going to die like her namesake."_, _"You have failed."_


	16. Chapter 16: Who are You?

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire by George RR Martin, I do however own the non-canon character(s) of this story. This is purely a work of my personal enjoyment so I ask you to not expect anything worthy of the great GRRM. I fully welcome criticism/suggestions/questions. The story will eventually be finished (I hate leaving things unfinished) but I have no real schedule. Please review as I'd love useful feedback/thoughts about the story.

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Notes: I was conflicted as to what I would do with the pots of pig shit, had one of two purposes but the second involved explained how the hell the Reyne's would take it that far west without any eyebrows being raised in suspicion. The first is far easier to explain and I feel more satisfying... may even do a PoV of the aftermath/event as it unfolds.

\+ I've changed the title of this story from House Reyne to Long and Sharp. I feel it more fitting and just generally a better title. :P

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**Chapter 16: W****ho are You?**

It was dark out as Arthur sat beside the fire, looking at the flames as he sharpened his sword and sang to himself. He had a rather good singing voice, a trait his father said came from his mother. The wind blew gently through the trees, two horses tied to a tree and a young wolf girl sleeping not far from the fire. Arthur sounded sad as he sung.

"And who are you, the proud lord said, that I must bow so low?" In the fire he saw crimson banners burning, the image flicking as the fire danced in the breeze. "Only a cat of a different coat, that's all the truth I know. In a coat of gold or a coat of red, a lion still has claws. And mine are long and sharp, my lord, as long and sharp as yours..."

The wolf girls breathing picked up, she was awake although trying to hide the fact. "Did I wake you little wolf?"

Arya picked up her head and stared at him with a scowl. "How did you-"

"I have my ways. I used to go hunting with my brother when we were younger you know," Arthur explained, changing the subject as he kept watching the flames dance. "we'd always pretend that we were hunting lions in the mountains to avenge our family. Father caught us one day, and gods was he furious." He smiled warmly at the memory. "If anyone heard you, he said, they would take it as treason. Tygett never went hunting again with me after that..."

"Why not?" Arya had sat up in her sleeping bag, curious.

"He was the heir." Arthur put his sword into it's scabbard, the thing was sharp enough already. "He couldn't be running around in the woods, hunting lions and talking treason. I kept hunting however, sneaking out at night and going on my little adventures up the mountain passes."

"Did you find any lions?"

Arthur almost laughed. "No, thankfully not."

"I thought you _wanted_ to hunt them?"

"My father had the right of it." He turned his head away from the fire to face the wolf girl and her questions. "The best way to hunt a lion is not to seek it out to strike at it's den, but to lure it into a trap and strike when it least suspects the killing blow. Lions are dangerous creatures and I was a foolish child."

"You mean the Lannisters." Arya smiled at her having understood the lions meaning.

A faint smile appeared onto his face at that, vanishing quickly. "Go back to sleep little wolf."

"I'm not tired."

Arthur's haunting eyes offered no alternative. "Go to sleep. We've a long road ahead of us in the morning."

"Fine..." She rolled her eyes and laid back down beside the fire.

Arthur continued his song, his voice low enough for it to be a lullaby. "And so he spoke, and so he spoke, that lord of Casterly. But soon the rains will weep o'er his hall, with no one there to hear." He got up and kicked some dirt over the fire, preparing to get some sleep himself. "Yes soon the rains will weep o'er his hall, with not a soul to hear."

Night turned to day as the sun crept over the horizon. Arthur returned to the camp with a number of rabbits hanging over his shoulder on some rope, he walked over to a sleeping Arya and kicked her sleeping bag gently. "Wake up little wolf. I've brought breakfast, make yourself useful and set the fire."

She rolled over in annoyance, shooting a death stare at the lion in response. Arthur smirked, taking a seat and beginning to skin the rabbits.

"What time is it?" Arya asked, rubbing her eyes.

"Morning." Arthur replied, pealing back one of the rabbit skins.

He stopped abruptly, a rustling coming from the nearby treeline. "Lions?" Arya asked, jolting up to her feet and pulling out the dagger Arthur had given her.

"No." Arthur hesitated as the creatures revealed themselves. "Wolves."

He found himself pushed to the dirt before he could draw his sword, a large snarling monster on top of him as it tried to rip out his throat. "Arya!" He shouted, having stabbed the wolf in the neck multiple times with his dagger. He now stood, tossing the dead wolf beside him, but Arya was face to face with the largest wolf Arthur had ever seen. "Don't. Move."

The girl muttered something incoherent, the large wolf pushing her to the dirt. _"Shit."_ Arthur thought. _"She's dead. Well done Reyne, you failed, and your next." _He expected to hear screaming as the wolf ripped into the young girl, but to his surprise he heard... laughter? He drew his sword, the smaller grey wolves backed off a distance as the human screamed. "What the FUCK IS THIS?!"

The large one got off Arya and began moving slowly towards him, growling. Arthur prepared for-

"No!" Arya cried. "He's a friend Nymeria, no!"

The wolf hesitated before standing down, much to Arthurs shock. "Arya..."

"She's mine." The wolf girl explained.

His eyes darted back and forth, the other wolves had vanished. "I'll need more of a explanation than that."

"This is Nymeria." Arya explained, turning to strock the beast. "Nymeria, this is Arthur. He's a friend."

"She doesn't seem to believe that." Arthur said as the wolf growled again, his sword still ready to defend himself... or try at least.

"Put your sword away." Arya commanded.

"I-"

"Do it!"

Arthur knew the Starks had direwolves, he'd seen the Lady one before it was killed. This one was larger, a lot larger. He thought on his options and narrowed them down to two. One, do as the bossy wolf girl asked and trust that the wolf wont kill him. Or two, try his luck with the almost horse sized wolf and face what would be almost certain death. _"I don't want to die, far too pretty for that."_ He thought to himself in jest and sheathed his sword slowly, keeping a hand hovering over his dagger.

The wolf stopped growling, then seemed to completely ignore him. "See?" Arya smiled widely. "Told you so."

"I assume you'll be bringing the wolf with us?" He asked, being sure not to let the thing out of his sight for even a second. The direwolf it seemed couldn't care less, ignoring him like the wind. It's smaller companions were departing one by one, their old leader seemingly wanting little to do with them.

Arya's blank expression and raised eyebrow spoke volumes.

"Right," Arthur said. "stupid question. I suppose we should get moving then."

The road to Riverrun had been oddly uneventful, while previously he'd gotten the occasional beggar asking for coin or food, nobody approached them even once on the road to Riverrun. Arthur suspected it had something to do with the large wolf that traveled with the pair. "Hold!" The guard at the edge of the camp demanded. "Who goes there? State your business!"

"A lion and two wolves." Arthur tilted his head, motioning to the direwolf that stood beside Arya's horse.

The guard hesitated when he noted the wolf. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"I must speak with Robb Stark." Arthur narrowed his eyes.

The guard laughed. "And why the hells would we let you do that pretty boy?"

"Looks like a Lannister to me!" The guards friend said, readying his spear.

"I'm no Lannister." Arthur growled at the insult.

"He's Ar-"

"I'll speak with King Robb." He interrupted the girl. "I'll come unarmed if it makes you feel better, we want no trouble."

The guards exchanged looks. "Where'd you get... _that_."

"_That_ has a na-"

Arthur cut her off again. "The wolf belongs to your king, came across it in the woods and hope to get a reward."

They seemed to buy that, the intelligence of the every day levy never failing to amuse Arthur. They were escorted through the Stark and Tully camps that sat outside the walls, his sword taken away at the gates as they entered, all curious eyes falling on the direwolf who remained in the courtyard as Arthur and Arya were escorted to a larger room. "Your Grace," The northman escorting them spoke. "these two road into the camp, we thought it best to-"

"Robb!" Arya pushed past the guard and wrapped her arms around her brother, like a lion pouncing on it's prey. Arthur couldn't help but smile at the look on the northmans face, or the panic on the guards who had drawn their steel to defend the king from the vicious attacks of a little girl.

"A- Arya?" Robb Stark hesitated, looking at the girl are not believing his own eyes. "How? Your in King's Landing..."

"I escaped!" She said with no small hint of pride.

Arthur took a single step forward, the northern guards halting him from going further. "Your sister is quite resourceful, Your Grace."

"You brought my sister home..." Robb paused, signalling the guards to be at ease. "You'll want some reward? No?"

"I-"

"He's a friend," Arya interrupted him. "his father found me at Harrenhal and then he brought me to you."

Robb looked at his sisters savior, stopping at his dirty golden hair. "Who _are_ you?"

"As the little wolf told you, I am a friend."

"Your name..."

"That," Arthur smiled. "is not for _others_ to hear. If you understand me."

"Leave us." Robb commanded his guards.

"Your Grace, you-"

"Will be fine." Robb growled. "He's unarmed, and has I think not come all this way to kill me so soon after returning my sister. Wait outside the doors."

The guards left reluctantly and Arthur stepped forward some, winking at Arya as he did. "Thank you, Your Grace."

"It is I who should be thanking you, but it would be nice to know the name of my sisters savior."

"I think the girl can look after herself well enough, Your Grace." Arya smiled at the praise. "My father found her at Harrenhal, picture his surprise if you will when Arya Stark was serving Tywin Lannister drinks at a war council and the old fool had no idea who he had. My name is Arthur Reyne, heir to Castamere and Commander of the City Watch of King's Landing." The wolf didn't need to know of his having been fired from the latter, he'd retain the position soon enough anyway.

Robb's hand went to his sword at that, although it went no further. "And why would your father not inform Tywin of such a... valuable hostage?"

"You hate the Lannisters." Arthur kept his expression blank.

"Is that a question?"

"More of a statement." He continued, handing some letters to Robb. "Your hate for them is nothing in comparison to our own. Robb Stark."

"What's this?" Robb spoke, an eyebrow raised curiously as he began reading the many letters.

"A gesture of good faith and the main reason I asked that your men leave us." Arthur began speaking while Stark read in silence. "In your hands is proof of a great plot, a treason, that would have led to your death and the fall of your house. It is not the first time Tywin has made ruin of a house and this time he wouldn't have made the mistake of leaving survivors."

"I-" Stark was speechless as he finished reading the many letters that detailed the conversations had between Tywin, Frey and Bolton. "The Freys-"

"Will be dealt with by the time I return to my father." Arthur cut the wolf off from his thoughts.

"How?"

"The Twins will burn."

"But _how_?" Robb was determined to know, still not entirely sure if this was all truly happening.

"Wildfire," Arthur explained. "A single ship sent up the river, packed with pots of the stuff, it'll explode under their bridge and that'll be that."

"You'd destroy the crossing..."

"Aye."

"That would not kill them all." Stark shook his head, now staring out a nearby window.

"No," Arthur agreed. "but the Freys would be forced to rethink their situation. They may even believe Tywin has betrayed them and with any luck there will be little left of the Twins, as I am told the stuff seeps into cloth, wood, leather, clay, even steel, so they take fire as well. I almost feel sorry for the bastards."

"Why have you done this?" Robb turned back to face the lion. "Why help your enemy?"

"And so he spoke, and so he spoke, that lord of castamere." Arthur spoke, each word a low growl. "You have lost a father to the Lannisters. I have lost grandfathers, uncles, cousins and countless others. My father took us to the graves once a year so that we'd never forget what was done to us, and what we would one day have to avenge. It is our duty, Robb Stark, blood demands blood. House Lannister has many a debt unpaid."

"What are you suggesting."

Arthur smiled devilishly, leaning against the nearby wall. "In a coat of gold or a coat of red, a lion still has claws, And mine are long and sharp, my lord, as long and sharp as _yours_. If I need be more clear, Stark, then perhaps your not as smart as we had hoped. Do we understand each other?"

"We do." Stark spoke after a moments silence.

"Good," Arthur remained leaning on the wall. "I suggest you search Lord Boltons rooms in the meantime and ensure that your men find those papers hidden behind something. Arrest the man and have a trial, your banners will call for the traitors head and the Lannisters will think nothing of it. Bolton got sloppy and screwed up the plan."

"And who will they blame the Twins on?"

"My father, most likely." Arthur replied with a shrug.

"Isn't that bad?"

"Not entirely." He explained. "Tywin failed to inform him of his intentions at the Twins, my father was simply attempting to kill his enemies and stop the King in the North from fleeing behind the safety of Moat Cailin. The men of the west will hail him as a genius, you will condemn the action as dishonorable, Tywin will be forced to do nothing and the war will go on."

"And I will be trapped in the south."

"This war will not last forever." Arthur shook his head. "Tywin is not long for this world, one way or another, he will die and the West will change hands. When the time comes Robb Stark I expect you to put your people before your own personal glory, a crown is not worth a kingdom. A title dose not make a king."

Robb raised an eyebrow. "What dose that mean?"

"You will see." Arthur's smile returned and vanished in turn. "There is another matter however, my brother was at Riverrun during the Battle of the Camps."

"We captured no Reynes."

"He's a Hill." Arthur replied. "Wears a black lion as his personal sigil, a friendly jest among the family. I trust he's well..."

"I'll have my men look, but no black lions come to mind."

"That you look is all I ask." Arthur said, slightly worried now. "He may be a bastard, but he is my brother."

"His name?"

"Robb Hill." Arthur laughed at Starks reaction to a lion sharing his name.

Stark ignored the grin on the lions face, re-reading the letters that detailed the communication between Frey and Lannister. "You have a bastard brother of your own, no?" Arthur asked hesitantly, for whatever reason. "Jon Snow, if I am not mistaken. Is he here with you?"

Robb paused his reading. "No. Why ask that of all things?"

Arthur shrugged. "Just making conversation, Stark."

* * *

Robert Vikary stood outside as the Reyne guards had refused his entry. He paced back and forth, hand resting on his swords pommel, listing to the faint words that were being exchanded inside the door behind locked doors. The words "Ambush", "Lannister", and more than a few "Bastards" could be made out. To the young knights glee the issue had seemingly nothing to do with his charge, hence not being allowed inside, the Lady Ellyn was still inside her bedding chambers utterly unaware of these events.

The door flung open. "You!" The bloodied knight from before pointed. "Inside. Now."

Robert did as ordered, knowing better than to question. The sight in front of him was a bloody one, a women laid out on a bed soaked with blood, never a good sign by any accounts although Robert was hardly knowledgeable about such things. "L- Lady Lelia." Robert paused, recognizing the face of the women on the bed.

"Dead." The bloodied knight snarled.

"How?"

"We were escorting Lady Reyne back to Castemere. Lord Arthur wanted her away from the capital." The man explained with a sigh. "He thought she'd be safest away from that vipers nest, but we were ambushed on the road, they carried no banner but it doesn't take a fucking genius to know who ordered this..."

"Tywin surely wouldn't..."

"No. Tywin wouldn't be so stupid." The man agreed, looking at Robert as if to judge wherever or not he should be telling the young knight any of this. He was a Vikary however, a Reyne in all but name, the guard of his lords own sister too. If there was anyone he felt he could trust in this castle... although the list was a short one in truth.

"Who then?"

"No sense is spewing rumors lad," the bloodied knight replied. "we called you in for a reason. The Lady was with child, you can be sure Arthur will want blood for this."

"Gods..." Robert muttered.

"No sense in preying either."

"H- How." Robert hesitated. "I mean, what now?"

"We do nothing."

"Nothing!?"

"Aye," the bloodied knight spat. "we do nothing until Lord Lann says otherwise. You'll keep your mouth shut, inform the Lady Ellyn that outlaws have killed her brothers wife, but speak nothing of our suspicions. This was a fucking tragic accident but an accident all the same and it wouldn't do for anyone outside our circle to think otherwise."

"I-" Robert's eyes rested on the bloodied form of Lelia Kenning, her dress was black with blood and it seemed she'd been stabbed multiple times in the stomach.

The bloodied knight raised his voice from the hushed whisper he'd kept prior. "Do you understand me boy?!"

"Yes." Robert replied with no small hint of sorrow, diverting his eyes from the dead women on the bed. "I understand..."

* * *

He'd been in the Stark camp for a good few hours now, news had only reached him from Robb that they had captured nobody fitting the description Arthur had given. Robb apologized. Arthur shed a tear in private, although he held onto some small hope that the boy was a Reyne, and they were stubborn, death would not steal his little brother so easily. It was one of the few times Arthur Reyne said payer to the gods... and he kicked himself almost instantly for being so bloody desperate.

"We should imprison the bastard!" Arthur heard somebody shout, the Umber fellow if he'd learnt anything from his time here. The voice was rather unmistakable.

Arthur made his way to the room that the shouting was coming from.

"He is a quest, my lord." Robb was in there with them, Arthur assumed it a meeting of some sorts.

"He's a bloody Lannister!" Umbers voice again, the man could give the Mountain a run for his money.

Arthur stood outside the door, the two guards standing vigil looking at him with suspicion. No doubt asking themselves if the lion posed a threat. It did. It always did.

Robb raised his voice slightly. "He returned my sister and warned-"

"A ploy!" Umber must have smashed his fists on something... or kicked something... it was hard to tell from behind closed doors. Arthur heard a large bang of whatever description. "House Reyne are one of the Lannisters principle banners for fuck sake, he's playing us like a harp!"

The doors to the room open as Arthur was escorted inside by the two guards. "Apologies, Your Grace. M'lords." The guardsmen spoke with a slight bow. "This... lion... was stalking outside. We didn't know what else to-"

"See?" Umber demanded. "This bastard was spying on us!"

"Oh yes." Arthur stepped forward casually. "It was easy too Lord Umber, for the hole camp can hear your screaming. I dare say Tywin Lannister himself could spy on you all the way from Harrenhal. I, it seems, have had a wasted journey. If you'll return little Arya to me I'll just be on my way..."

"Lannister bastard!" Umber bellowed, red faced and clearly angry. Arthur gripped his swords hilt.

"Enough!" Robb raised his voice, the boy commanded more respect from his banners than Arthur had expected. He thought to find a boy being led by his far more experienced lords, but most seemed to generally respect him. It was not an unpleasant surprise, seems his father was right about Stark being a potentially valuable resource. "You forget he has more cause than any of us to hate the Lannisters, Lord Umber. He returned my sister, and these letters check out well enough." A hint of hurt at the last fact.

_"Betrayal's bitter taste rarely gets any sweeter."_ Arthur thought on what his father had told him once. It seemed to ring true, Stark had felt it twice now if Arthur was counting right, once by the Greyjoy boy he'd called brother and now twice or perhaps three times by Bolton and Frey.

Umber spat in Arthur's general direction. "His family bent over to the Lannisters long ago, aint no fight in them anymore!"

"The next time you meet a Lannister, Lord Umber." Arthur smiled, taking a step closer to the giant of a man. "Please tell them _exactly_ that."

Umber huffed, a glint of respect in his eyes for a moment. "He's got balls, I'll give him that." The Greatjon was a more agreeable and less insane version of the Mountain. If you challenge that man in such a manner he'd simply kill you... but Umber had the Northern Honor about him. He wouldn't respect Arthur for anything but strength.

Arthur let out a breath when Umber seemed to stand down, opening a much large gap between the two. "If only it were so easy. If my father could've rose up and crushed Tywin he'd have done it already, but some things take patience. The best way to kill a lion is to strike when it least suspects... not attack it head on when it's prepared."

"We've done quite well attacking you fuckers head on." Umber replied, a grin on his face.

"Aye," Arthur offered a grin of his own. "Tywin underestimated you, thought to make quick work of a green boy. He forgets that all great men throughout history were green boys at one point or another. A wolves claws are as long and sharp as a lions it would seem, and Tywins are dull at best." Arthur had not been shocked by Tywins brazen overconfidence, he was a fool in his eyes, a truly wise man fights every battle as if fighting a worthy enemy.

That earned a grunt from Umber, but Arthur thought it a victory. He'd take it as one at least.

"You came for a reason I assume, Ser Arthur?" Robb asked now that the room was less hostile.

"I'm leaving within the hour." Arthur stated. "I wished to offer House Reynes regards, and ask that you say farewell to Arya for me. The girl seems like one to hold a grudge if I was to leave without saying goodbye." He put his hands up in mock surrender. "I wouldn't want to anger the little direwolf."

Robb smirked. "I'll let her know."

"Good." Arthur said. "Then I take my leave of Your Grace. You too Umber, I shall greatly miss our bickering..."

"Ha." Umber grunted

As he left and began walking down the hall the words "I still think we should" were heard, the rest too faint to make out clearly. It was either kill or capture if Arthur had to guess, either were frankly safe guesses, the Umber giant was a man of few words. Arthur on the other hand liked talking... a lot... perhaps too much. A good thing in hindsight as the ride back to Harrenhal would be a long and rather lonely one, himself would make for fine enough company he supposed. _"Great,"_ Arthur thought. _"now I'm talking to myself."_


	17. Chapter 17: Lonesome Road

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire by George RR Martin, I do however own the non-canon character(s) of this story. This is purely a work of my personal enjoyment so I ask you to not expect anything worthy of the great GRRM. I fully welcome criticism/suggestions/questions. The story will eventually be finished (I hate leaving things unfinished) but I have no real schedule. Please review as I'd love useful feedback/thoughts about the story.

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Notes: I rather like Arthur's PoV. It's more Me as I often talk to myself like a crazy person and make lite of everything despite being aware of something being serious, although future events may turn Arthur into a more 'hardened' figure. He's a lot of anger behind the comedy and smiley carefree attitude that will eventually explode. :D

* * *

**Chapter 17: ****Lonesome Road**

It was times like these that Arthur wished he'd demanded an escort or perhaps taken along one of his cloak officers, although he understood the necessity of traveling light it now seemed that oddly enough he missed the annoying antics of Arya Stark, the girl whom reminded him so much of his bastard brother, stubborn and willful to a fault. It was ultimately pointless to think on such things but he'd been traveling for hours now... having resorted to conversations with his sword of all things.

"Do you remember the first?" Arthur smiled at the memory.

The sword said nothing.

"Right," Arthur realized how stupid a question that was. "not something you'd forget I suppose."

The sword said nothing.

"You would think that." He rolled his eyes at the swords wit and cunning, mouthy bastard that it was. "Remember his face? The great and mighty knight of wherever, son of whoever. You'd think he was a king with such arrogance, but you soon shut him up."

Arthur was talking aloud atop his dirtied white horse, laughing at his own conversation as he traveled through the ruins of some old Riverland village.

"This place was lively once," He continued speaking to the sword. "fishermen, farmers, more than a few whores running after a handful of bastards. Clegane - You remember Clegane, tall angry fucker, size of a tree - he saw to these poor sods I suppose. Brutally effective but useful for nothing besides butchers work, mountains a blunt mace."

He'd been through this small village before on the road to Darry, they were good people and even housed his fathers party for a night. Lann had paid them handsomely for the hospitality despite being under no obligation to do so, he was generous like that, money never meant much to the man. "There are others who have far greater use for it." he used to say, part of the reason Castamere's smallfolk loved their liege. Tywin would call it foolish no doubt but Arthur called it wise, love was stronger than fear and would last far longer.

"Who are you talking to?" A figure appeared in front, startling Arthur's horse.

"My sword." Arthur replied honestly, seeing no cause to lie.

The man, rough looking with a seemingly rusty looking sword on the belt raised an eyebrow in question. No doubt as to the sanity of such a thing.

"I'm not crazy." Arthur defended the notion.

"Suuure." A second man appeared from the nearby burnt out house.

"That's exactly what a crazy person would say." The first man agreed with his friend.

"Met many crazy people have you?" Arthur smiled, he'd since halted his horse and had not failed to notice the larger number of armed individuals that were closing in around him. A sane man would have surrendered by now... but Arthur was never one for common sense. If they wanted to play, he would play.

The second man smirked, the sight showing that he was missing a number of his teeth.

The first replied. "We've met our fair share. Lions, wolves, madmen and even a mountain that walked."

"I've met the latter." Arthur's smiled died.

"Have you now?" A third man walked up from behind, casually running his hand across the horses like he was stroking a large cat.

"Terribly disagreeable fellow."

"On that we agree." The first man nodded slowly.

"So," Arthur smiled at the first. "how about we part of cherished acquaintances?"

"Cherished aqaintences he says!" The second laughed heartily, pronouncing acquaintances incorrectly. Much to Arthur's amusement.

"Acquaintances." He corrected.

"What?"

"It's _acquaintances_." Arthur sounded it out, to the mans annoyance.

"Tis what I said!" The second defended himself, drawing steel as his fellows laughed at him.

"Enough!" The first spat. "Get off your horse and hand over your things."

"And what if I don't want to?"

"Then you'd leave us no choice but to _take_ your things."

Arthur's smile died. "Alas, it seems we've come to an impasse my good ser."

"Now your taunting me..."

"Smart man." Arthur reared his horse, grabbing a knife from his left leg and tossing it into the eye of the fool that was standing to the left of the horse. The first man in front of the horse recoiled as hooves corrected with his skull and sent him flying backwards into the dirt with a thud. Arthur moved to draw his sword in an attempt to cut down those in his way and gain a clean getaway from these bandits. Unfortunately, he was not so lucky.

_*thud* _He crashed to the cold floor, a bandit or two having grabbed him from behind and tossed him from the saddle.

A few kicks and punches later all the knight tasted was blood as darkness washed over him. _"Too pretty to die."_ Is all that went through his mind. However many minutes or hours later he opened his eyes to find himself on his knees, hands tied, one of the bandits holding his horse by the reigns and the others going through his belongings.

"Quite the show." A man was knelt in front of Arthur, his sword in hand.

Arthur smiled, one of his eyes was swollen and the side of his face felt numb. "I aim to please."

"You've seen better days, Arthur."

He knew that voice.

"I apologize for this, but you _did_ kill two of them."

"Beric Dondarrion." Arthur almost laughed at the realization, not just your random group of bandits then it seemed. "Death becomes you my lord, although I fear I remain the far better looking of us."

"That can be changed!" One of the men from earlier snarled, dagger in hand.

"You killed that ones brother." The first voice said, still knelt in front of him.

"Thoros of Myr." Arthur noted. "It was nothing personal you understand, couldn't go down without a fight."

"Naturally." Thoros replied.

"Your far from home Arthur." Beric got him back on topic.

"Oh you know me, always one for adventure and getting into trouble."

Beric was not assumed, although it was rather hard to read the man. He'd changed a great deal. "Your lords men have butchered these people."

"Starks have too I'd wager." Arthur countered. "But come now Beric, you know better than to assume I had any say is all of this."

"No." Beric walked to his side, forcing Arthur to look upwards, an action that hurt more than he'd expected. "You wouldn't, but we _do_ hang Lannisters."

"Then it's a bloody good job I'm no Lannister, isn't it?"

"He's just as good!" One of Beric's lackeys called.

"Am I Ser?" Arthur asked, the anger obvious in his tone.

"You do work for the Lannisters."

"For now." Arthur smiled, ignoring the pain it caused. "Tywin is my liege after all, and we all have our duties to uphold. Debts to pay."

Beric said nothing for a moment, looking into haunting violet eyes. "We take him with us."

Arthur tilted his head to the side. "Just release me Beric and we can forget all of th-"

A sharp pain struck and then darkness washed over him once more. He had no inkling of how long we was unconscious, dreaming of the tourney at King's Landing on the day Tygett was dragged into the Kingsguard and Arthur's dreams of joining the order were shattered by the Lannisters. He'd never forget that day, nor would he forgive those responsible. He _would_ survive this. He was too pretty to die in the dirt because of fucking bandits. His enemies still had debts to pay.

* * *

"Run," a voice repeated itself. "Run," again and again in a woman's voice this time until a sharp pain struck him and the voice changed once more, "Leave the lad alone Elly."

He remembered falling, into the cold and wet, awaking alone with a sharp pain in his arm and a weight in his chest that felt like a dragon had sat on him. _"I'm a lion." _He kept reminding himself as he desperately searched his person for the dagger, only to find it had been lost to the river. The boy felt tired and cold. Sleep would only help now, or so he thought, drifting off into the void and much needed rest. _"I'm a lion."_ He thought, as the voice from before spoke once more. _"Leave the lad alone Elly."_

"What have we here?"

"A boy."

"I know what it is, idiot."

"Who are you calling an idiot?"

"If you need me to explain that then yo-"

"Quite!" A harsher voice silenced the others. "He's awake."

Robb's eyes struggled to open, the low light of morning blinding him in his efforts. "W- where am I?" He asked hesitantly. The last thing he recalled was running and then...

"Your safe child." The man spoke again. "Tell me, what do you remember?"

"Running." Robb replied after a moments pause. "Then, I fell? Into water?"

"The red fork."

Robb nodded lazily in reply.

"What's your name child?" The man asked, grey-haired, wearing faded robes and piecemeal armor.

Robb knew better than to reply honestly, although he also knew delaying too long or answering too quickly would be seen as signs of a lie. His father had tried to teach him about such things. "Roger." He replied using the name of the Red Lion. The best lies however had a hint of truth, so he kept his bastard status. "Roger Hill."

The man in red studied him for some sign of a lie but if he found one he didn't seem to care, taking the boy back to his camp where Robb was given food and drink before being asked a series of questions. He was a bastard. His mother died when he was young. His was a page to his father, a knight, whom died at Riverrun. The best lies have some truth, or so his real father claimed, and Robb played his role well enough that the outlaws stopped asking questions. They let him stick around mostly fetching various things for them in return for shelter and food. There were far worse situations to find himself in and he had no idea how he'd ever escape the band of outlaws, although he doubted escape was even a good idea as he'd likely die out there on his own. At least with these men he was fairly safe, they had taken him in, fed him, and likely saved him.

_"My family will find me."_ Robb thought to himself as he sat cross-legged beside a fire, relying entirely on dumb luck and the hope that his father would find him. Somehow.

* * *

Arthur awoke to a darkness that was quickly rectified by somebody violently pulling his blindfold off. "Rude." He muttered, to his captives annoyance. They were in a cave by the looks of things as the lions eyes adjusted to his surroundings. "Beric," He caught sight of the hollow shell that was his old jousting buddy. "it's common courtesy to take one for dinner before taking them home. Just sa-"

A punch intruded him, and Arthur spat in his assailants general direction before continuing his monologue.

"Just saying, some food and maybe a glass of wine would've been appreciated."

Beric shook his head at Arthur's antics as he got up from his seat.

"I'm a classy guy." Arthur smirked as the knight approached.

"Stop talking for once Reyne."

Arthur did not stop talking. "Some candles at least?"

"Do it." Beric uttered.

"We can talk about this!"

A man approached him behind, Arthur's hands still bound and helpless to the knife he was certain would soon end his life. It seemed unlike Beric to murder a captive, but the man was clearly changed and Arthur was not willing to bet any coin on the matter. Death was coming and all he could think was along the lines of. "Shit." As he closed his eyes and waited for the blow.

It never came. The knife meant for his neck, rather than doing the obvious, instead cut the ropes that bound him.

Beric dropped a sword on the cold stone, the clang it make upon contact echoing through the cave. "Take it." Beric said calmly as he took some paces backwards and readied a sword of his own. "God will decide your guilt or innocence, Arthur Reyne, here and now you will be judged."

_"He's gone mad."_ Arthur thought, knowing he was vastly more skilled than Beric at swordplay. The young lightning lord was no pushover but still, he was no Arthur. He decided to keep that thought to himself, no sense in letting Beric change his mind. "What gods are those, Beric?" He said instead. "I never took you for a godly man..."

"The one true god." Thoros stated.

"The Lord of Light will be your judge, Arthur." Beric confirmed as he held his sword to his side.

Arthur had long since gotten to his feet, and his a sword in his hand he felt hole again. He was unstoppable again. Ignoring the fact that he had a sword before that that didn't save him from being taken captive in the first place... but it didn't do to dwell on that little fact. He knew he could easily defeat Beric, that was no an issue, the issue was he truly did not want to kill the man. "You will lose this fight, old friend."

Beric smiled. "Only god knows our futures."

Arthur swung his blade to test the balance. "So be it." He put on a fake smile as he thought to himself, _"I tried at least."_

Beric had refused the shield his young squire had offered, the man it seemed still had his sense of honor even if his sense of reason had abandoned him entirely. Before they could begin the priest stepped forward and began saying words that had no meaning to Arthur. "Lord, cast your light upon us." Thoros began to speak, to the campfire of all things. Not that Arthur could judge, he talked to inanimate objects all the time.

"Lord of Light defend us." The gathered bandits chanted as one.

Thoros continued. "Show us the truth. Strike this man down if he is guilty or give strength to his sword if he is true. Lord of Light, give us wisdom for the night is dark and full of terrors." The priest looked at Arthur with that, as if some pretty words would scare him.

"The night is dark and full of terrors."

Ok, so admittedly the chanting was slightly creepy, but Arthur wouldn't be scared by some bloody fire priest and his blind puppets. The gods, seven or otherwise, did not care for the lives of mere mortals. No god would strike him down. No god would save Beric from his foolishness. Annnnd now Thoro was moving towards-

Fire engulfed Berics blade as he ran his freshly bloodied palm along the steel. _"Wildfire?"_ Arthur thought, now slightly more on edge, the fire was hardly a game changer but it certainly gave an edge to Beric on the distraction factor. Having fire tossed into ones self was hardly ideal in any fight. "Nice trick, you'll have to teach me it some time." Arthur voiced with a smirk to hide his fear. No, fear was the wrong word. Lets call it cautious curiosity. Beric discarded his shield since his opponent had none of his own, the man still holding onto his sense of honor even if his sense of reason had been seemingly ripped away. In the light of the lit sword Beric's many scars were clear as day, he'd been through a lot. He swung first, a mistake, as Arthur easily parried and pressed his advantage. The crowd, who had chattered and cheered, became completely silent, and the air rang with the tintinnabulation of the singing blades and the hoarse rasp of Beric's breath.

Arthur's sword slipped past Beric's defenses and slashed toward his throat. Beric dodged, barely escaping the lions claws as Arthur taunted loudly, "Your slower in your old age." Arthur slashed backhanded in a return blow and Beric thrust his blade vertically to catch it before it cut him in half. "Yield," Arthur growled as they two parted and began circling menacing. "I don't want to kill you Beric!"

He lunged wide in response and Arthur quickly moved his sword to parry but then took a step closer and brought his sword up, warping it around Beric's and sliding down the outside of his blade, jerking his own sword inward causing Beric's sword to fly out of his hand. Before the lightning lord could react there was a deafening bang that turned to ringing and a horrible, teeth rattling shake as the pommel of Arthur's sword smashed into his opponents helmet. Ignoring the pain as best he could Beric felt his opponent - who had slipped round him in his painful confusion - throw his sword over his arms and against his throat, a position that left him no choice but to submit or die.

"Yield!" Arthur roared.

Beric hesitated, oddly calm for a man facing death.

"The Lords will is done." Thoros announced.

"I yield." Beric stated clearly for his men to hear.

Arthur sighed with relief at that as he relaxed his swordarm and a smile returned to his lips. "Well that was fun." He could've swear that got Beric to smile, but it could have just been the poor lighting. "So," Arthur sheathed his sword and rested a hand on the pommel. "who's a man got to kill to get a drink around here?" Beric's men had been less than thrilled by his continued existence or the fact that he'd opted to stick around for awhile and drink what passed apparently passed for ale among these lot of outlaws. With drink like this it was a small wonder they'd turned to crime, almost enough to make Arthur feel sorry for them. Almost.

"So," He took a gulp of the thick ale-like substance. "what have you been up to Beric? Last I heard the mountain had killed you, among others that have claimed to have killed you too. Conflicting reports but I thought for sure at least one of them had to be true." Arthur swirled the thick drink around in his cup as Beric responded.

"No lies." He sighed heavily. "How many times is it now Thoros?"

"Four?" Thoros drank deep from his own cup, far deeper than Arthur dared. "Or was it Five?" The mountain was first, a lance at the Mummer's Ford." He went on to explain how his squire Edric Dayne had protected Beric and helped him to escape. Despite the efforts of Thoros, Beric died in an ash grove that night. Beric was then unexpectedly resurrected when Thoros performed the last kiss of the Lord of Light. Arthur doubted it, but the man did have a large collection of rather serious scars.

He kept his doubts to himself, no need to offend his guests by insulting their beliefs. "And so you turned to banditry."

"King Robert is slain, but his realm remains. And we defend her."

Arthur held his cup up. "To the King then, and far similar times."

The trio drank and Beric spoke, "I've a gift of you."

"A gift?" Arthur raised an eyebrow, lowering his cup.

"Thoros, bring the boy." Beric asked his friend, whom complied with no complaint.

Arthur dropped his cup, a light thud echoing through the cave as the thick unappealing substance split across the floor. Thoros had returned, standing beside him a young boy with black hair and eyes as wide in shock as Arthur's own. "B- brother?" The boy tripped over his words as Arthur got to his feet and rushed to kneel in front of the boy.

"Robb." He said, as if confirming it for himself before dragging the boy into a hug.

"We found him some time ago." Beric explained.

"How, and where?" Arthur asked, the boy was now crying into his shoulder.

"Dumb luck," Beric shrugged. "and on the bank of the red fork."

Arthur scowled. "Why the hells didn't you come to us for a random?!"

"This was barely a months past and the boy only told us his name once he saw you dragged into here in binds, kept silent until you'd won yourfreedom."

"Smart lad." Thoros said.

"I knew you'd win!" Robb beamed.

Arthur ruffled the boys hair. "I'm sorry we didn't find you sooner, but that's a topic for another time."

"Are we going home?" Robb asked, the hope clear in his voice.

"Not quite," Arthur hated crushing his hopes so soon after being reunited. "father is at Harrenhal. We'll go to him soon."

"I wouldn't advise that." Beric said.

"Roads are dangerous." Thoros agreed.

"Life is dangerous," Arthur countered. "it's never stopped me before and certainly wont now." Again the fact that he'd been captured once before and would now be traveling with a young boy did not escape his thoughts. "Besides," He smiled. "west or east, all roads are dangerous. We'll just have to be extra careful."

"Why not go south?" Robb asked innocently.

_"South?"_ Arthur thought. Stoney Sept was only a few days ride away if Beric could be believed on the matter of where exactly they were. It had been one of the first things he'd asked when they sat down for drinks. The town had been taken by Lannister a fair time ago, so it would be fairly safe, or at least safer than the Riverlands. Tyrell's host was somewhere close to Tumbleton last he heard... it would not be impossible to hug the northern borders of the Reach and make it to the capital unharmed.

Then again the road would be far longer and his father would be waiting. "No," Arthur shook his head. "the road south would take too long. Not to mention the last I'd heard of the Tyrell's host was some time ago, gods know where they are now. We could walk right into their host and find ourselves captives at best. Dead at worst."

Arthur found himself missing Arya again, or at least in this instance her large and useful wolf companion.

"You'll head east then?" Beric asked. "To Harrenhal?"

"To Harrenhal." Arthur agreed with a nod.

"You could stay with us." Beric offered, only haft in jest.

"And become the next Smiling Knight?" Arthur smirked, the idea of living on the road with nobody to order him around and no responsibility or family honor to uphold was not entirely unappealing. The drink was shit however. "Tempting," he paused. "but I'll have to decline. Although if your heading east I'll happily tag along..."

Beric thought on that, looking to Thoros before answering as if expecting him to argue. "We'll be going north, deeper into the Riverlands. You can join us as far as Stone Hedge and head east on your own from there. I trust you'll make no mention of us to yo-"

Arthur held a hand up. "On my word as a Reyne, the mighty Tywin will hear nothing from me."

It was barely two days ride to the lands of House Braken of Stone Hedge, the castle and lands having been sacked by Clegane's dogs they were largely empty and therefore the party of outlaws encountered little to no resistances to speak of. It was actually rather peaceful if one could ignore the burnt out buildings, destroyed crops and ruined lives that they passed. The reality of war was a harsh one, and it hit Arthur harder than he'd expected it to.

"This is where we part ways, Reyne." Beric said, offering a hand.

Arthur gladly took it. "Until next time then, Dondarrion."

With that Arthur and Robb departed from the Brotherhood without Banners, taking with them enough supplies to last them until Harrenhal or beyond with some rationing if need be. "A man, a boy and two horses travailing alone through a war torn wasteland full of wolves, lions and very desperate broken men." Arthur said aloud with a sigh as he rode atop his dirtied white horse. "What could _possibly_ go horribly wrong?"


	18. Chapter 18: Aggressive Negotiations

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire by George RR Martin, I do however own the non-canon character(s) of this story. This is purely a work of my personal enjoyment so I ask you to not expect anything worthy of the great GRRM. I fully welcome criticism/suggestions/questions. The story will eventually be finished (I hate leaving things unfinished) but I have no real schedule. Please review as I'd love useful feedback/thoughts about the story.

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Notes: So, anyone caught on to Lann's ultimate plan yet? I am curious. I had left subtle hints throughout the story but have purposely avoided PoV's from Lann and even Tygett for awhile because I want the reader to be as in the dark as Arthur essentially is, while the pieces are there, the hole picture is not. It will either be a great reveal or people will accuse me of not being obvious enough... but I see the story mainly though Arthur's eyes and He is largely in the dark about his fathers plan.

\+ Yes, I killed him, and it was not hard. ++ Concerning the song Tygett signs it's taken from "Lowborn" by Aviators, credit to them.

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**Chapter 18: A****ggressive Negotiations**

The rains had softened the ground, so Tygett had no trouble digging the grave. He chose a spot in a small clearing some distance from the roots of the nearby trees that would've caused him no shortage of troubles. "Sellswords." Tygett cursed the fools, although in hindsight he'd thank Baelish for bringing his own guard, less questions would be raised. Petyr Baelish had been a man he'd wanted to kill for some time, brought about by his obvious ambition. The fool of a man was not as cleaver as he liked to think.

He shoveled another pile of dirt into the grave, covering Baelish so that nothing but his forehead could be seen. No more shit-eating smirk. No more plotting. No more Baelish. _"May the gods take mercy on you,"_ Tygett thought as he shoveled another pile of dirt over the man, covering him completely. _"if they should see fit to do so."_

It was a simple thing in the end, for all the mans schemes and ambitious he never expected that somebody would simply... kill him. Life was unpredictable like that.

Only a few days past, Baelish and Tygett had been talking on the road as friends. King Joffrey in his wisdom commanded Tygett escort Lord Baelish to treat with House Tyrell and the Reachlords at Bitterbridge. So, the truth of the matter? Cersei took an opportunity to be rid of him... not that he minded. It was naturally unfortunate when bandits attacked them on the road and killed Baelish. Most unfortunate indeed. The sellswords? They ran when the man paying them died, such is the loyalty of sellswords. Tygett, being loyal to his king, would go onward to Bitterbridge alone to treat with the Tyrells and offer them an alliance. Just not the alliance that the bitch queen was hoping for...

"Off to Bitterbridge to see the fair maid, heigh-ho, heigh-ho." Tygett muttered a song to himself while finishing off the grave.

The smell of rain was in the air again, and he was thankful to have filled the hole before it could brake. _"There ought to be a septon here, to say some prayers over him."_ Tygett thought with a solemn face. He didn't like Baelish but he'd never forbid any enemy some last words. "Meh." Tygett said aloud, shrugging as he moved over to the horses. The sun was westering as he fed the horses an hour or twos travel down the road. There were two; his and a fine stallion he'd taken from one of the long dead sellswords. The horse was no doubt more valuable than anything else the man owned, his life included. He'd taken some sellsword armor too, the attire of the kingsguard brought far too much attention to a lone traveler. As skilled as Tygett was he'd avoid conflict if he could help me... although that was often more difficult than one would hope.

Tygett was sore and tired when he spied an inn ahead, a tall, daub-and-timber building beside a small stream. The warm yellow lights spilling from the windows looked too invinting to ignore and he found himself unable to pass up the chance for a brief rest. _"I have the coin,"_ Tygett told himself. _"thanks to those sellswords."_

At this hour he would have expected the inn to be crowed, but the common room was almost empty. A young lordling in fine damask mantle was passed out at one table, snorting softly into a pool of spilled wine. Otherwise there was no one. Tygett looked around uncertainly until a stout, short, whey-faced women emerged from the kitchens and said, "Sit where you like. Is it ale you want, or food?"

"Both." Tygett took a chair by the window, well away from the sleeping drunk.

"There's good lamb, roasted with crust of herbs, and some ducks my son shot down. Which will you have?"

He'd eaten before they left King's Landing, but Tygett had always liked lamb and it _had_ been a long ride. "The lamb sounds wonderful, thank you."

The women smiled. "Will you be wanting a room for the night as well?"

"No." Tygett would have liked nothing better than a soft mattress and a roof over his head, not to mention the innkeep's daughter if the way she was glancing at him was anything to go by, but he could ill afford to delay. Not to mention, he'd sworn vows... not that it seemed to stop the rest of his sworn 'brothers' back at the capital. "Some food, some ale, and it's off to Bitterbridge for me." Tygett cursed himself, why did he tell her that? He continued, not wanting to seem suspicious. "How much farther is it?"

"A day's ride." She replied. "Head west when the road forks at the burned mill. Is my boy seeing to your horses, or has he run off again?"

"No, he's there," said Tygett. "You seem to have no custom."

"Haft the town's gone to war. My own son would too, if he were older." She sighed. "He'll have this inn when I go, but the boy would sooner swagger about with soldiers, and my girl turns to sighs and giggles every time a knight rides by. I swear I couldn't tell you why. Knights are built the same as other men." She eyed Tygett curiously; his fine castle-forged sword told her one thing while the crude sellsword attire told her another. "You heading off to the war yourself?"

He took a sip of the ale before he answered. A nut-brown color it was, and thick on the tongue, he'd known worse ales in his travels with King Robert. "Aye," he said. "I heard the lords are gathered there." In a moment Tygett decided that some local insight couldn't hurt, as news and rumor burned like wildfire. "Have you heard anything?"

"I've heard the young Lord Caswell's held himself up inside Bitterbridge," She said. "but I pay no mind to whispers."

The lamb was good, surprising so, better than some he'd had in the past cooked by far richer chefs. The innkeep's daughter brought buttered peas as well, and oaten bread still hot from the oven. Tygett had a second tankard of ale with the meal, a third to wash it down, and a forth because there was no one there to tell him he shouldn't. When he was done he got up from the table and moved over to pay the women for the meal, reaching into his punch of silver stags and gold dragons.

"For the meal." Tygett held out a silver stag.

She smiled and took the silver eagerly.

"And," Tygett held a gold dragon between two fingers. "for the conversation."

She went wide-eyed as Tygett laid the gold dragon in her palm, her eyes darting to the ruby signet ring on his hand.

Tygett smiled, closing the women's hand around the coins in her palm. "House Reyne thanks you."

Her daughter dropped a pitcher of ale as Tygett gave her a sly wink as he left for the stables, eager to leave before they could ask him more questions, or the innkeep could attempt to wed her daughter off to him. It was dark by the time he reached the stable, his stomach was full and his purse was a little lighter, but he felt good as he entered the stables. The first thing he heard was a horse whicker. "Easy, lad," a boy's voice said. Tygett quickened his steps, frowning.

He found the stableboy mounted on his horse, a boy of barely ten-and-three years. It was an amusing sight, one Tygett chuckled at as he stood at the stable door.

The boy looked up, flushed, vaulted to the ground. "M'lord, I did not mean-"

"Thief," Tygett said, trying to sound stern. "Step away from the horse boy, and be glad he didn't kick you in that fool head. He's a warhorse, not a pony."

"I could ride him as well as you," the boy said, bold as you please.

Tygett smirked. "What did you think you were doing?"

"I- I want to be a knight!"

Again, Tygett smirked at the boys boldness.

"I could be your squire!"

"I have no need of a squire," Tygett said.

"Every knight needs a squire," the boy said.

"How you know you I'm a knight?"

"Your arm-"

Tygett shot him a warning look, "You looked through my bags?"

"I-" The boy lowered his head. "I only looked a little."

"I see." Tygett shook his head and grabbed the reigns, leading the horses outside.

"Please," the lad begged as he followed like a lost puppy. "take me with you!"

Tygett thought about it for a moment, a loyal pair of hands could be useful. "No," he decided against it. "you mother will need you boy. War breeds all kinds of trouble."

"I'll never earn the coin for a sword!" He hung his head as he realized, "I cant protect them..."

Tygett moved over to the spare horse, grabbing a sword and scabbard out from it's saddlebag. "Here," Tygett tossed it at the boy whom caught it with both hands and wide eyes. "now you've a sword and a horse. Treat them well and maybe you'll live longer than the previous owner." It was foolish really, giving away good steel and a perfectly fine (if not hard ridden) horse, but Tygett pitied the lad and honestly leading a spare horse around was unnecessary with only a days ride ahead. If anything it would only slow him down.

"I-" He stuttered. "Thank you, ser."

"Thank me by using it well, lad." Tygett leap into the saddle of the no-longer-spare horse.

The boys eyes shone with pride as they rested on his mother and sister, whom stood in the doorway of the inn watching. "I will," the boy held his head up. "I swear."

Tygett rode off without another word, the time for mingling with the commenfolk was long past and he had a hard ride ahead of him if he wished to make it to Bitterbridge before the Reachmen host moved on. This was no simple task, the fate of his fathers plan and by connection the fate of House Reyne, depended on his success.

"Not far away lies a storm to the north." Tygett sang to himself as he rode casually towards Bitterbridge, once known as Stonebridge until the day the Mander ran red with blood for twenty leagues. "Whispers of winter as death marches forth, honor means nothing when war is unfair, for we've come here to battle and return to nowhere."

Tyget kept singing in a hushed tone as he rode forward. "Kings die like peasants, with no one to mourn." He eyed the Tyrell banners that all but surrounded those of House Caswell that flew above on the castle walls, on the ground under the hoozes of his horse was a dirtied banner bearing a once proud fox sigil. "There's blood in these hills from the battles forlorn. Wolves in the shadows drag pieces away and I've nothing to lose, with no debts left to pay." Later than expected, outriders approached from the road ahead.

"Halt!" The commanded, outnumbering the lion three to one. He'd had worse odds. "State your business, or be gone!"

"I am Ser Tygett Reyne," Tygett paused, a smile behind his stoic expression. "his Grace, King Joffrey Baratheon, sends me to treat with House Tyrell."

"He sends you alone?" One of the outriders commented, eyeing up the lion.

"The boy kings a bloody fool," Another smirked at his friend. "sending a lone knight to-"

"Silence!" The leader spat. "This is the bloody White Lion," he explained as Tygett lent forward in his saddle and kept his blank stare. "saw him best the Kingslayer at the tourney in King's Landing. Don't go making threats you cant back up, you idiot." The leader warned his men, much to the mans embarrassment.

"I-" The man stuttered.

"If you'll follow me Ser, this is a matter for Lord Tyrell." The leader stared at his companion and muttered, "_Not_ for the likes of us."

"Lead on." Tygett gave a nod and followed suit, towards the large encampment under the walls of Bitterbridge. "I have seen heaven, or some kind of hell." Tygett continued his song as they rode slowly through the camp, gaining the attention of more than few eyes. "Of ice and of fire, the stories we tell. We rise from the ashes, to attack in the night."

* * *

He was told to wait, given a room of modest size with flowers and drapes and the subtle smell of perfume in the air. On the bed there was two fine outfits that left little in the way of defense, he supposed the key would be not getting hit, although that trick was hard to pull off should his hosts aim to fill him with arrows. Still, it would be rude to do refuse the attire. Tygett tossed his armor aside and picked the red-and-black doublet over the gold-and-red. A test as subtle as it was obvious to the lion.

"The color suits you," a sweet voice came from the doorway as Tygett finished putting on his doublet. "Tygett."

He turned to see a girl with curling brown hair, large brown eyes and a slender yet shapely figure. "Lady Margaery."

Margaery smiled. "That's enough of the courtesy, no?"

Tygett returned a smile. "Arthur misses you."

To her credit she kept her smile and to anyone else would pass as unaffected, but Tygett knew people too well. He'd spent too much time in the capital.

"He'd never admit it," He continued. "but he does."

"I heard-"

"That his wife died?" Tygett interrupted.

She nodded grimly.

"She was with child."

That broke her mask, eyes-wide for a split moment.

Tygett picked up his sword, resting in it's scabbard as he strapped it to his waist. "You did not come here to talk."

"You wont need that." Margaery's eyes focused on the blade with a lions head on the pommel, carved from white marble.

Tygett said nothing as he moved over to the door beside the maid of highgarden, standing a foot taller than her, waiting patiently.

"If you'll follow me then," Margaery relented. "father is waiting in the hall."

It was a short walk from his chambers to the great hall, great being a generous term for the truly moderate size of House Caswell's holdings. _"Adding all the flowers in the world will not make it look grander."_ Tygett found himself thinking as he followed Margaery towards the seat where her father, the Fat Flower, sat on numerous cushions.

"Welcome!" The fat man bellowed from his seat. "Welcome to the Reach Ser Tygett!"

"A pleasure to return," Tygett paused to give a nod to Ser Garlan. "although I wish it were in less dark times."

It was Loras whom spoke next, before his father could get another word in. "We'll not join that boy king of yours!" He snarled. "No more than we'll join-"

"Dear brother," Margaery attempted to calm her brother, laying a hand on his shoulder and smiling knowingly. "should we not first hear what he has to say?"

Tygett took that as his moment to get words in before the clearly emotional knight could make more of a blunder of things. "Lord Mace," he bowed to his host as was proper and expected. "it is good to see your family once more, always the ray of sunshine in an otherwise foggy realm." Flattery would get one everywhere with Mace Tyrell.

"Yes, yes," A women's voice interrupted Tygett's hollow praise, much to the fat flowers annoyance. "out with it already. What is it you want from us Reyne?"

"Mother-" Mace spoke, silenced by a look from the women.

"Well?" She repeated bluntly. "Speak up lad. I'm not getting any younger."

"Lady Olenna," Tygett smiled at the brains behind Highgarden. "still as sharp as ever."

She smirked briefly before returning to her usual stoic expression. "Come out with it."

"His Grace," Tygett let the title hang in the air and made sure the Queen of Thorns was paying attention. "would like to put forward himself as a potential marriage option for the flower of Highgarden. In return for this great honor, the king will forgive House Tyrells past mistakes in aiding false kings. He will also name Lord Mace to his small council in a role picked at his Graces pleasure, along with promising a place in his Kingsguard to any Reachman you deem worthy to protect royal blood."

"I-" Mace was practically chocking on the offer. "I will need time to think, on his Graces many offers."

It was all Tygett could do to not roll his eyes in response. "The King will be eagerly awaiting Highgardens response."

As he left the hall to the sound of Loras arguing with his father and sister Tygett could feel the eyes of Olenna Tyrell burning silently into the back of his head. The women had, he hoped, gotten the message. Lann Reyne's plan was never something anyone could ever claim as simple but if anyone could figure out the end game, it was surely the Queen of Thorns. And if not? Well, no words of treason had been uttered. Tygett had done exactly as he was sent out to do... it remained to be seen if Highgarden would play along.


	19. Chapter 19: Hear Me Roar

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire by George RR Martin, I do however own the non-canon character(s) of this story. This is purely a work of my personal enjoyment so I ask you to not expect anything worthy of the great GRRM. I fully welcome criticism/suggestions/questions. The story will eventually be finished (I hate leaving things unfinished) but I have no real schedule. Please review as I'd love useful feedback/thoughts about the story.

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Notes: A fairly long time in the making, as the story took some turns and twists in my head as I decided the approach I wanted to take since this chapter is a major turning point for the Reyne's. I had many options. Everything goes well, or everything goes bad, or they side with X, or they continue playing the long game, or etc etc etc. In the end I decided I wanted a huge drity struggle and to scare the crap out of some people... because I got the bloodlust after I killed a major character in Sunset Starks. :P

\+ Please review. Did you like the battle? Want to have a good cry? I feed on the tears of the innocent, so cry away little lordling, cry me a blackwater bay.

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Reviews: I'll answer some reviews while I'm working on the 2nd haft of the Blackwater. cabralfan27: Reyne on the Iron Throne? Yeah, no, that would never happen for a number of reasons and is defiantly not Lann's plan. LukeDeadman: I happened to be reading Duck and Egg too and it inspired me to write the chapter almost as an easter egg of sorts, Tygett ending up in the same Inn, following in the footsteps of another Kingsguard. Ataxius: Good riddance, your salty tears shall be missed.

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**Chapter 19: Hear Me Roar**

"Why not go south?" Robb Hill had said so innocently, yet so publicly. It was not that Arthur did not trust Beric, he'd dare to count the man as a friend of sorts, but he was not about to share his plans with a bunch of outlaws. So he lied and rode east towards Harrenhal only to turn south at the Gods Eye. To the confusion of his companions.

"I know." Arthur had replied when Robb pointed out, obviously, that they begun going the wrong way.

Robb had asked if his brother didn't trust the brotherhood and frankly, no, Arthur did not. The littlest lion kept quiet for the rest for he journey as the group slowly traveled along the shore of the Gods Eye, the largest lake of the Seven Kingdoms. _"He thinks of them as his friends."_ Arthur had realized, the way his little brother spoke so highly of the brotherhood he clearly felt wrong about having lied to them. They were not his friends however, the child would have to learn, they were his captors.

That being said one among the outlaws seemed a genuine friend to his brother, one little lord that was very far from home. Edric Dayne. "Why is the Lord of Starfall here, Beric?" Arthur had said, practically growling until Beric explained that the boy had been his squire when Ned Stark sent him off to hunt the mountain.

"My lord?" Edric asked from atop his own horse. He was a shy lad only a few years Robb's elder, with pale blond hair and dark blue eyes that appeared purple in the right light; a Dayne trait he shared with Arthur. They were cousins after all, that is why Arthur had demanded Edric accompany him. A life of crime would not do for a Dayne.

"Yes lad?" Arthur replied, continuing at a slow pace down the dirt road.

"Why did you ask Beric for me?"

Arthur looked at the boy for a moment, eyes that reminded him of his mother. "We are cousins, Edric."

The young lord seemed to brighten at that, as if he had forgotten, or perhaps wondered if Arthur cared for his distant relations. He'd visited Starfall once when he was a squire in Highgarden, having rode off under cover of night with his friends on a grand adventure. Mace Tyrell was furious when he learnt of it, Arthurs father even more so.

"You can call me Ned," Edric replied, avoiding eye contacted. "if you like. My friends call me Ned."

Arthur smiled at that, but a sight ahead drew from from whatever he'd planned to say to the boy. Lannister colors, gold and crimson banners fluttering in the breeze above vast red tents. It was frankly not difficult to find the Lannister army if one was looking for the tell tale signs. The ground told one enough, you don't move that many horses without leaving clear tracks. They may as well have left signs showing him the way; hence the need for outrid-

"Halt!" Two mounted knights stormed in front of them, right on time. A little late actually.

Arthur was not in the mood for wasting time. "I am Arthur Reyne, son of Lord Lann Reyne and Heir to Castamere." He said in his most lordly voice. "My father is expecting me and Lord Tywin will want my report. If you would be so kind as to escort me to my fathers tent I'm certain he would be grateful for the assistance."

The two men seemed conflicted as they looked between each other, no doubt slightly disappointed at him having interrupted what Arthur was certain would've been a _very_ intimidation warning about trespassing and what not. On the other hand, Reyne generosity was well known, the idea of a reward would entice most knights.

"Did you miss me?" Arthur spoke with a grin as he pushed the tents flap aside and stood before his father.

"Arthur," Lann replied simply. "take a seat."

He did, eyeing those lords that were gathered in his fathers tent. Kenning, Sarsfield, Farman and Banefort all sat at his fathers table eating and drinking as he sat to join them. "Wine m'lord?" A serving girl asked, holding a pitcher. It was temping, the wine that is, not the girl. Gods know those outlaws lacked fine wine... and girls too come to think of it. He was married however and... speaking of his wife... He raised an eyebrow at Lord Kenning, whom shifted uncomfortably in his seat drinking far more than his share.

"Arthur." Lann snapped him out of his thoughts, having begun to drift off into ramblings.

"Father." He replied, deciding to accept a glass of wine. Just the one.

"I take it you've not heard, lad."

His father was being serious. _Too_ serious, even for him.

"My daughter is dead." Lord Kenning stated bluntly, gulping down another glass.

"I-" Arthur struggled to find the words. _"Dead?"_ He thought, his grip having tightened around his wineglass. _"No,"_ he refused to hear it. "_No. I sent her home. I kept her and-"_ He recalled then the true loss that he felt, while he could not claim to have been in love with his wife, she had given him joy all the same. "My son..."

"My daughter," Kenning spoke, his words dropping with venom. "and grandchild. Murdered..."

Arthur did not hear him, muttering to himself as he grabbed the pitcher from the serving lass.

"I'm so sorry, my boy..."

"Who?" Arthur snarled, emptying the freshly poured glass.

"Bandits." Lann replied.

Lord Kenning grunted.

"No," Arthur shook his head. "no common fucking bandits overpowered my men and murdered my- my wife and child!"

"Arthur-"

"No!" Arthur pushed up from the table, knocking over his seat.

"Clam down boy," Lann narrowed his eyes. "before you do something rash!"

"Rash?" Arthur spat. "I'll fucking show you rash!"

He didn't make it far from his fathers tent, sword naked and in hand, before two of his fathers guard blocked his way. _"Tywin Fucking Lannister."_ Is all that raced through his mind. He knew it was his doing, and worse yet his father was smart enough to know it too, but gods forbid he take any action.

"M'lord," one of the guards stood directly in his path.

"Out of my way!" Arthur snarled.

"I cant do that m'lord."

He would later question how far he'd have gotten if not for his father.

The punch sent him to the dirt. "I'm sorry."

"Father." Arthur pleaded, remaining down in the mud. "They-"

"I know." He offered his son a hand, pulling him up into an embrace.

Arthur refused to cry, although gods know he wanted to. "I'll kill them all," he muttered into his fathers shoulder. "every last one of them."

"Aye," Lann said with a smile. "sooner than you think my son. Sooner than you think."

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The Tyrell army never showed. It was supposed to as Tygett informed Tywin they had accepted King Joffreys offer of alliance, he then suggsted that peraphs they had been delayed; the Lord of Highgarden was one known for his lack of military command and all-in-all courage. "Doubtless," Tygett had said. "the Fat Flower will leave the fighting to us only to show up and claim the glory when the day is already won." It was a believable tale, one based on public knowledge and one that Tywin could easily accept as truth.

Thus, the Lannister host continued along the Blackwater Rush without the expected Tyrell host; keeping a vigil on their flanks encase of any treason from the Reachmen or perhaps a surprise attack from Stark... although that seemed unlikely given Starks last reported movements. Tywin however would not tale any chances. Stannis Baratheon's host was split across the Blackwater when they arrived, victory well within his grasp. Strangely enough this would be the first true combat Arthur had partaken in, an odd thought, given his skill with a blade. He'd sparred against multiple opponents, trained the city watch of King's Landing and won many a tourney but he'd never fought in a true battle... because frankly there had never been a battle to fight in. Only his father had seen battle and he did not seem eager for more.

Tywin's host started out as 20,000 men and by the present it had suffered from desertion and insurgency in the riverlands, as well as at least two major battles and many minor sieges and skirmishes. At least one of these battles, the Battle of the Fords, was quite costly. It had bloodied Tywins nose, but ultimately he achieved his goal.

The formations of the besiegers were predictable, one could say as if taken out of any maesters book. What was unusual was the flames as the waters of the Blackwater shun with green embers; reminding Arthur of a sunset of sorts. The surface was a roil of blood and flame. The sky was red and orange and garish green. It was the work of the defenders, Arthur assumed, knowing full well about the endless stores of wildfire in the city. _"A genius play."_ He thought to himself from atop his white destrier. He smiled at the thought of their own ploy using the substance. _"The Twins is surely burning just as brightly by now, the screams deserving of such a fate."_

"Ready lad?" Lann rode up beside his son, having been given command of the vanguard by Tywin.

He was, for what that was worth. However he couldn't hep but miss the presence of his brother.

"Tygett will bring that Fat Flower." Lann had explained his brothers absence, apparently having been sent to gain an alliance and bring the Tyrells into the fold although there seemed far more to it than that, his father would not say. Regardless he decided it would be good to see them again, having squired at Highgarden for a time in his youth.

The Lannister formation was simple enough, not that one had to be fancy to be effective. Several rows of nothing but shield and sword and pikes or spears. Behind those were thousands of archers, with longbows for increased range and those with crossbows for pure stopping power; less effective at range but requiring less skill and training, they would end even the most armored of knights if aimed well. Lastly was the assortment of heavy cavalry, the true claw of the Lannister army, none their rival... or so the West claimed alongside the Knights of the Vale and the Knights of Highgarden and just about every other region with knights. All claimed to have the best when in truth it came down to the equipment more often than not and few rivaled Lannister in terms of equipment and the means to supply it.

Edric Dayne sat atop his own horse beside Arthur, having been honored with a place as the lions newest squire. His cousin had proven able in the role.

"Afraid lad?" Arthur asked, putting on a calming smile.

"No." Edric replied.

"No?" Arthur laughed. "Your a braver man than I then."

"Y- Your afraid?"

"Bloodly terrified, Ned." Arthur kept his smirk.

"All men fear battle, Edric." Lann explained while keeping his eyes on the city in the horizon. "Bravery is not giving in to that fear."

The little Lord of Starfall simply nodded, recalling that Beric had said something similar to him once.

"Should we not have ridden out by now, father?" Arthur was growing impatient, they had been waiting for the sigil for what seemed like a lifetime.

Lann gave his son a look, one he couldn't quite read.

"I hear music." Edric said simply, looking over his shoulder.

"Music?" Arthur thought, hearing nothing over the sound of the many horses, almost as impatient as he.

The wind. Horses and men alike showing their impatiences with groans and the clinking of shifting steel. There were no birds, Arthur noticed now, he assumed due to the sizable host and distant battle not to mention the noise that amount of wildfire must have made when- "Huh." Arthur heard it. "I do hear-"

It was the screams. Always the screams that reached the ears first, when a volley of lit arrows crashed into the rear of the vanguard and felled those with their backs turned to the attackers. Next, he heard the dreaded sound of arrow shafts tearing the air around his head. "AMBUSH!" Lann roared, assuming it as such. He assumed wrong.

Arthur noticed it first, wide-eyed. It was not bandits. It was not Stannis or Tyrell or Stark or any banner he'd expect to see shooting them in the back, it was Lannisters, the row of a thousand archers aiming true towards the vanguard. "Lannisters!" He cried, drawing his steel as he swung his horse about. "Kill the fucking Lannisters!"

Divided, surprised, and outnumbered, the Reyne forces broke, with many attempting to flee mid-battle, proving as fickle as any men on the edge of death. However for every one that ran nine remained, following Lann Reyne like a beacon as he rallied his remaining cavalry and lead a charge against the line of archers. Arthur, in haste, rallied a rearguard made chiefly of those knights who's horses were felled by arrows. "Shield wall!" Arthur commanded. "Form a shield wall along the flank!"

There was no time to see how his father was handling matters of his own, as predicted Tywin had sent his own heavy cavalry around the treeline intent on boxing in the Reyne vanguard. He could hear the sounds of steel and the cries of dying men from all corners of the forest; the host of the West had erupted into chaos and Arthur knew it would not be only Reyne banners being stabbed in the back. Sarsfield was positioned to the east lines and Arthur could see a line of Lannister knights crashing into some men-at-arms dressed in Sarsfield tabards. _"How?", "Who?!"_ Arthur asked himself, among other things, it was clear Tywin knew exactly who stood with his father.

Arthur's front locked shields together low, resting spears and pointing them straight. The second row locked shields higher and readied their own steel about head height; no greatly professional shield wall to be certain. These were largely knights, not footmen, and gods know they were prepared for a heavy charge at the enemy and not for... this. Arthur was in the middle of the first row and between the gaps in the shields he could see the Lannister knights storming towards them with relentless speed.

"We hold!" Arthur shouted atop his lungs, drowning out everything else. "We hold! And we make them bleed for every inch!"

The charge grew closer, and it was clear the men were afraid. They had every right to be. "Aim for the mounts!" Arthur explained, keeping his voice loud and clear despite his own growing fear. "High enough to kill the horse and the rider will be helpless!" It was sound advice, and filled his men with some shed of confidence. The host of mounted knights split roughly in haft, the heavy and light mixed, aiming to give one attack to the left while another hammered the right.

"A gold dragon for every kill lads!" Arthur shouted, smirking to himself.

The enemy horses were close, only a few yards between them.

"And a lordship, to the man that brings me TYWIN LANNISTERS HEAD!"

The cavalry smashed into the wall of shields and steel with a force that seemed to shake the very ground they stood on. The death wails of horse and man alike filled the air and some of the Lannister riders urged their mounts away, determined for another shot at the line. Two knights had made it over the shields to the empty zone behind, forcing Arthur to pull away from the shield wall with a final "WE HOLD!" before moving to handle the knights himself. Acting without delay, his sword cut the front legs of the closest knights horse, sending the beast crumbling forward. The rider struggled to get up, one leg pinned under the horses weight.

Arthur carved the mans skull with a swing of his blade before leaving the wounded horse to wail and moving on to the remaining knight.

The knight swung at Arthur's neck from atop his mount. Ducking backwards he avoided the blow easily and took the opening to stab upwards, into the riders swordarm, causing him to drop his blade in agony. Reaching up, Arthur grabbed the knights arm and dragged him out from his saddle. He drove his steel into the mans neck before tossing his corpse aside. To his joy looking back he found the sight of his shield wall holding firm if not slightly battered.

Swinging around Arthur ran to the rear of the wall, surprisingly all but intact, tho certainly weaker than when it began. Many sections were still engaged in conflict while others licked their wounds. "Encircle the bastards!" Arthur yelled in the hopes that his officers would hear. "No mercy!" The sight of their commander returning to the line gave the men renewed strength. "Edric!" Arthur grabbed the silver-haired lad out from the wall, his silver hair despite the blood and muck, stood out clearly. "Get to the left flanks, tell them to push and encircle the center." The boy to his credit had made it this far but was clearly exhausted. "What are you waiting for cousin?!"

"I-" Edric looked back to the wall, not wanting to abandon the men he'd been fighting beside.

"Go!" Arthur commanded. "I'll handle this."

Arthur's idea of handling this was a simple enough one. The left flank seemed the lightest in way of Lannister colors, although it was hard to tell the difference between Reyne and Lannister thanks to the blood and muck that graced every man. Still, Arthurs plan relied as usual on a mix of courage and foolish luck. Hopefully, the flanks would push.

The remaining Lannister knights had made little effort against the wall of shields and steel; while dealing a certainly substantial amount of damage the wall itself refused to buckle. The final nail in the Lannister moral however was the lone man smashing out from the wall of shields in the center, a wave of Reyne men-at-arms and knights following behind. Arthur's charge caught on quickly, as every man in the wall followed. "CASTAMERE!" He'd cried as his shield wall broke away and pushed into the Lannisters, a force of men entirely focused on them and too preoccupied to notice their flanks. In fact, had they been of sound mind or had Edric failed to relay orders, thing would've gone poorly.

Arthur roared as he fought among the Lannisters, swinging wildly and dodging like the Warrior reborn. He would dodge and lunge for the joints in his foes armor while taking off limbs one by one like a man possessed. The men that fell to the ground screaming he would leave, moving onto new challengers. He blocked a sword strike with ease and slashed the challengers chest with a back-swing before driving his steel through his visor, into and out the back of the mans skull. With a grunt Arthur pushed the man free from his blade before ducking under the swing of a large battleaxe. The axeman's eyes went wide at having missed, and embedded his axehead inside the stomach of a fellow red-cloak that happened to be standing beside Arthur; in the wrong place at the wrong time. Taking the opportunity, Arthur swung his sword and decapitated the axeman, the look of shock still evident on his face as it rolled away onto the muddy forest floor. "VICTORY!" Arthur cheered, watching his men cut down the now routing Lannisters.

Just then Arthur cursed loudly as a burning pain lashed across his back. An enemy had taken the opportunity of his turned back to strike, no doubt aiming for his head, yet only succeeding to rake the tip of his sword across Arthur's back. With the foes body fulling committed to his failed attack, he was unable to counter as Arthur stuck him over the head with his pommel and processed to cut open his throat with a downwards swing. His line had held, to Arthur's own shock, but it was at great cost.

"To me!" Arthur cried, no time for rest. "To me lads and... lets..."

The sight stole any words from him. Looking around the trees he could see the fallen banners of Sarfield and Banefort and numerous others that he knew to have plotted with his father, it was a picture not of victory but of defeat, for clearly his force had been one of the only or if not the only force to have 'won' the day. If you could call it winning.

"Shit." Arthur cursed, turning his eyes away from the left and right of the forests to up where his father had charged the line of archers. It too was a sorry sight as numerous horses were impaled on pikes. His father had ridden into a trap it seemed as he could only assume the archers had fallen back for a line of spearmen and pikemen to take their place and just as his own line had done, butcher the mounted knights, with far greater ease than his men had managed. They had lost.

"Arthur!" Edric spoke, clear worry in his voice.

"Father..."

It was the young Dayne that gave the order of "Shields!" as between gathered the line of Lannisters with shields and spears and steel appeared the archers that had once rained hells down upon them, returning to finish what they started. A Reyne man-at-arms brought a shield up to protect his liege as Arthur stood in silence, seemingly lost in thought. The Lannisters rained a volley down on Arthur's men, taking out a man here and there that was unlucky enough to be struck.

Another volley and those men that had laid down their swords in surrender where the first to die. Tywin would leave no survivors this time. No mistakes.

It was not long before the Lannister footmen moved in, slowly, but steadily. They would surround the wounded lions and end them there and then it seemed. _"So,"_ Arthur though in his sorrow. _"this is how it ends."_ If he had any regrets other than not killing Tywin, it was that he'd gotten Edric killed. The boy was too young to die.

"I'm sorry cousin." He looked down at Edric, the fear obvious in his haunted purple eyes. His mothers eyes.

"Not your fault." Edric said simply, putting on a brave face.

Arthur gripped his sword and summoned what courage he had to spare. "Captain."

The captain, one Ser Tion, limped to his lords side.

Arthur looked at the old man. "Are you with me, Ser?"

"To the death, my lord." Ser Tion spoke with pride.

The world seemed to slow down as Arthur stepped towards the Lannisters, picked up a second sword from a fallen knight, and ran. "TO THE DEATH!"

"TO THE DEATH!" Ser Tion charged forward.

"TO THE DEATH!" Edric charged, with the courage of a knight.

"TO THE DEATH!" The lions charged, on both sides. Edric was a boy, in truth, and found himself quickly overtaken by the Reyne knights and men-at-arms that charged with a fury towards their lieges son with the battle cry ringing throughout the forest. "TO THE DEATH, TO THE DEATH, TO THE FUCKING DEATH!"

They crashed into the Lannisters with a ferocity of lions. Arthur dodged the first blow swung at him, dunking under the wide swing and moving instantly to serve the fools sword-hand at the wrist. Not giving the man time to scream about his lost hand he drove his main sword into the mans chest and, using the blade to keep him in place, sliced his throat with the offhand. Kicking the man free from his blade Arthur quickly felt a sharp pain as a small dagger punched through the armor on his upper left thigh.

The blade was thin and sharp, punching into flesh and muscle.

Before Arthur could react the man withdrew his dagger and made to slash at his chest, but thankfully Arthur's plated chest meant the dagger left little but a scratch on the lion that graced his breastplate. Arthur slashed violently at the dagger-wielding cunt, cutting him to ribbons with his duel swords, the man grasped at his wounds and stumbled backwards to the dirt. Grimacing in pain Arthur managed to remain on his feet, doing his best to ignore the pain in his leg. The blood was flowing freely and Arthur couldn't help but recall his maesters teaching about a vain in the leg that, once cut, could not be fixed. He could only hope it wasn't that bad... not that it mattered. He was to die here.

He parried the blow of another Lannister, countering and pushing despite the burning sensation in his leg.

"Argghh!" He heard a cry and darted around, laying eyes on the hunched form of Ser Titon. A spear had taken his life.

_"Edric."_ Arthur thought hopelessly as he caught his breath, his men dying around him one by one. _"Where are-"_

A sharp pain on the back of his head turned the world black, until it turned white, and he awoke on the cold floor of the Kingswood surrounded by his fallen men looking up at none other than the mighty Tywin Lannister. He got to his knees, and spat on the mans boots, earning him a swift smack from the pommel of someones blade. He caught himself and avoided the ground but could not find the strength to stand. His sword had been taken from him.

With a thud Red Rain fell before his knees, the blade freshly bloodied and noticeably without it's owner. _"Dead."_ The voices in Arthur's head told him. _"Dead. Lann Reyne would have died before allowing this blade to be in the hands of a Lannister."_ He did not wish to listen, but the voices spoke sense. "My father is dead."

Arthur had not meant to say the last part aloud, in fact he was not sure if he had or if Tywin had simply guessed at his thoughts. "A pity," Tywin said without emotion, standing in his crimson plated armor untouched by the fighting, clean as the day of it's forging. "had he not been so rebellious he might have made up for his predecessors failings. I told my brother Tygett at the time, we should have slaughtered you all to the last. Once traitors, always traitors."

Arthur ignored the man, hopelessly holding his fathers sword in both hands and staring at the blood on the blade. Fresh.

"Your father was sloppy." Tywin said, talking largely to himself as Arthur kept his head hung. "Did you think a lone rider with _those_ eyes riding into Robb Starks camp would go unnoticed?" Arthur did not reply. "Did you think his ploy with the wildfire would go unnoticed?" Arthur did not reply. "And did you think your wife-"

This caught Arthur's attention, darting his eyes up to the old lion. A fury burned in those haunting violet eyes.

-"dying would fool me?" Tywin shook his head, almost above the hole thing. "I wonder," he asked genuinely. "were you party to that crime too?"

Arthur continued to stare at the man, eyes still burning with hate as tears dried on his cheeks.

"You didn't know." Tywin almost laughed, if the man could do such a thing. "It was not I that killed your wife and child, little lion. It was your father."

"You lie." Arthur growled, the knuckles of his fist turning white as he gripped Red Rain's handle.

"No." Tywin replied, seeming to not notice or care that the lion had regained his claws. "Your father sought to anger my own banners by murdering a noble women, freeing you for a better marriage and placing blame on my shoulders. Kenning was furious. His house will be punished, but will be spared my wrath for bringing the treason to light."

_"So,"_ Arthur thought to himself. _"it was Kenning that betrayed us. All for a lie."_

Tywin spoke some more words, as he looked around the battlefield to the sight of fallen Reyne banners alongside those nobles that had risen up with Lann to throw down a tyrant. Arthur ignored the words. _"They are lies, surely."_ He doubted. _"No."_ He refused to believe it. _"He would not. Not to my wife, not to our son."_ He remembered however the words his father always spoke, words that gave life to the doubt in his heart.

"What I have seen and done to achieve my position defies belief." Lann would say to his sons. "What I am capable of and will be party to in order to achieve vengeance would chill your soul." Arthur honestly didn't want to know... but he would be dead soon. He decided that he could ask his father then and learn the truth soon enough.

"My lord." A voice came, but Arthur ignored it as he noted the woods were clearing of Lannisters as it seemed they were still intent on lifting the siege of the city; although this little delay has cost them time and men Arthur knew they still had the advantage of positioning and enough men to pull off a victory over Stannis.

Tywin it seemed did not agree with the voice from earlier, as he replied coldly. "The boy has proven where his loyally lays, Kenning."

Arthur raise his head at that. The voice had been Lord Kenning, his once father-in-law and grandfather to the child he would never have. "You." He spat at the man. "You bloody traitor, to stab your family in the back for tall tales and side with the monster that butchered my wife and child." He found the strength to stand. "Your own daughter!"

"It's your father that was the traitor." Kenning replied, not unkindly. He stepped towards Arthur. "Lay down your sword lad, for the love my girl bore-"

Kenning had gotten close enough for Arthur to bring his head forward, knocking the old lord to the dirt.

"You see?" Tywin said simply as two Lannister men sized Arthur by the arms and forced him to his knees. "Traitors blood, with an arrogance to match his father and that foolish Red Lion of his that dared think himself above Casterly Rock." Arthur growled from the dirt, refusing to release Red Rain. He would die with his fathers sword in hand.

An old song came to mind as he knelt in the mud awaiting death. In his head, the voice that sang was that of his mothers.

_"Gentle Mother, font of mercy,_

_save our sons from war, we pray, _

_stay the swords and stay the arrows, _

_let them know a better day."_

Arthur had never been a religious man, yet somehow the song put him at ease.


	20. Chapter 20: A Better Day

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire by George RR Martin, I do however own the non-canon character(s) of this story. This is purely a work of my personal enjoyment so I ask you to not expect anything worthy of the great GRRM. I fully welcome criticism/suggestions/questions. The story will eventually be finished (I hate leaving things unfinished) but I have no real schedule. Please review as I'd love useful feedback/thoughts about the story.

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Notes/Reviews: This is a Part 2 of sorts to Chapter 19. The response to Chapter 19 was priceless, loved it, your tears sustain me. In seriousness this is the Game of Thrones and not everything goes according to plan; a story where the hero wins without so much a paper cut is not a story I enjoy. If your looking for a marysue insta-win I'm afraid your in the wrong place. Lann was _very_ overconfident and paid the price. Least you forget this is Tywin Lannister, he's no fool, one cannot portray him entirely as such.

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**Chapter 20: A Better Day**

_"Gentle Mother, font of mercy,_

_save our sons from war, we pray,_

_stay the swords and stay the arrows,_

_let them know a better day."_

Arthur had never been a religious man, yet somehow the song put him at ease.

"Place him in irons." Tywin said, to Arthur's surprise.

"My Lord?" Kenning asked, curious.

Tywin looking down at Arthur, on his knees waiting for the death stroke. "The King will judge him."

"I'm to be shamed then," Arthur snarled. "before the boy king takes my head."

"That will be for His Grace to decide."

Arthur smirked, but kept his silence. For once in his life he found no witty comment on his tongue.

A distant horn grabbed the attention of his captors. Harooooooooooooooooooooo, it cried, it's voice as long and low and chilling as the cold and bitter winds of winter. Tywin turned sharply to look in the direction of the horn. There was silence. And then the trumpets answered, da-DA da-DA da-DAAAAAAA, and summoned the sound of thunder ripping through the trees, getting closer and louder. _"Friend or foe?"_ Arthur thought silently. _"No matter..."_

One of the guards holding him had released his hold entirely and the other had relaxed his previously iron grip. With his now free arm, Arthur pick Red Rain up from the cold dirt and lunched the blade upward into the ribs of the man holding him and, pulling the valyrian steel free with great ease, slashed the second guard across the face as he rose up with a back swing. The trumpets rang again, da-DA da-DA da-DAAAAAAA, brazen and defiant, as Arthur stepped forward with Red Rain in hand and a single goal. Tywin Lannister.

Tywin however was far alone, as numerous men had rushed to his side in light of the thundering trumpets or Arthur's actions or perhaps both, Arthur frankly did not care for the reason. He may die here, but by the gods he would take Tywin with him. "LANNISTER!" He roared with all his might, rushing into the steel of every man that stood between him and his prey. He side-stepped to dodge the first strike, cutting through the shaft of the Lannister spear and then cutting the wielders throat in quick succession. The second rushed in, raising his sword high. Arthur raised his sword to block, instantly counter and following up with a swift stabbing motion that pierced the fools stomach and caused him to cry out in pain. The man fell to his knees and Arthur left him there in the dirt. Tywins retainers were seemingly all dead or fleeing from the every growing trumpets.

Arthur picked up a fallen Lannister shield and moved it into the arch of an enemies swing, putting all his strength behind the deflect and continuing to drive the last of Tywins immediate guard further and further back. It wasn't long before the man fell backwards, tripping over some fallen man who's crimson colors could barely be recognized behind all the blood. Arthur smirked as the owners of the trumpets came into view, thundering through the trees with banners bright as summer, the Tyrell's golden rose and Rowan's golden tree, Tarly's huntsman and Redwyne's grapes and Oakheart's leaf. All the reachmen, all the power of Highgarden! They plunged through the Lannister lines like a lance through a pumpkin, every man of them howling like some demon in steel. Tywin lowered his guard as his eyes darted back and forth wildly, looking at the scene around him as Lannister men were cut down in droves, a slaughter more than a battle. Arthur did not waste the opening, honor be damned, he drove Red Rain into the lions hide.

"For my father!" Arthur snarled to Tywin, holding him close to his chest, Red Rain through his stomach and sticking prominently out of his back.

The Old Lion choked on the blood pooling in his mouth as Arthur withdrew Red Rain, causing the great Tywin Lannister to fall to his knees as countless Reachmen knights continued to ride past them without seeming to care; they were plenty preoccupied with running down those Lannisters that had not already rushed towards the capital.

Arthur held Red Rain aloft as he roared, "For my family!", and swung with every ounce of his strength.

Tywin Lannisters head, or at least an unevenly cut haft of it, flopped to the muddied forest floor with a thud. _"I did it?"_ Arthur thought, ignoring the many riders that were coming to a steady halt at the scene of Tywins fall. _"I did it father."_ He smiled, one of his rare few genuine smiles. "Your tired." The voice in his head spoke. "Sleep now," the voice repeated itself in his head. "Sleep," again and again in his mothers voice this time until the world went black and the voice changed once more, "Arthur?!"

* * *

"Arthur!?" Tygett shook his brother, unconscious yet alive.

"Get a maester!" A man spoke in a rushed tone. He was heavily armored and broadly built with a neatly trimmed beard.

"Garlan," Tygett addressed the man. "is _that_ who I know it to be?"

Garlan Tyrell shot a look towards where Tygett was staring and on the floor, in a pool of blood with haft his skull missing, laid Tywin Lannister. He'd flopped over to the ground from his knees, his brain no longer confined to the walls of his head, the cut that did the deed straight and clean as only valyiran steel could manage. "Tywin Lannister..."

"Aye," He smiled down at his brother. "strange."

"Strange?" Garlan raised an eyebrow.

As the two spoke numerous men gathered around Tygett and Arthur, bandaging his leg wound to cease the bleeding.

"I thought..." Tygett began, keeping an eye on his brother. "I feel nothing."

Garlan seemed to understand, simply nodding in response as he scanned the woods.

"M'lord?" One oof the men tending Arthur spoke.

Tygett looked to him, saying nothing as he waited.

"Lord Reyne needs a maester." Those words made Tygett flinch. "He-"

"Lord Reyne is my father." Tygett corrected the man.

The man looked down at the wounded lion. "Apologize, m'lord. I saw the blade and..."

_"The blade?"_ Tygett thought, only now noticing Red Rain laid beside his brother. His grip had loosened from the handle, but it was clear Red Rain had done the deed. "Where did you get this little brother?" He asked aloud. There was some poetic justice in Tywin dying upon Red Rain, Tygett knew, songs would be sung of it assuming they lived that long.

"M'lord?" The man snapped Tygett out of his thoughts.

"Tygett." Garlan spoke, having mounted his horse once more. Waiting patiently.

"See him to a maester." Tygett looked at the man that had dressed his brothers wounds. "See him alive, and you'll be rewarded. You've my word."

The man shook away his shock quickly enough, nodding and processing to work with his fellows to lift Arthur and take him away towards the Tyrell camp on the edge of the woods where Mace Tyrell had so heroically remained behind his host as all the young men and seasoned generals rode off to battle. Still, Tygett was glad to have help so close.

He mounted his horse, with Red Rain now sheathed in his scabbard. "Shall we?" Tygett asked Garlan, whom nodded and spun his horse around into a gallop to join the Tyrell cavalry along the treeline facing the capital. They had waited, perhaps too long, for the Lannisters to move out in their rush to aid the capital and lift the siege in wake of the 'Reyne Situation' being 'Dealt With'. With the bulk of the Lannister forces gone from the trees, the Tyrells had made short work of those few left behind.

Now Tygett and company rode hard towards the rear of the Lannister forces to trap them between the banners of Tyrell and Baratheon. Garlan lead the vanguard in his green armor, with the now dying fires of the Blackwater Rush shimmering off his twin golden roses. Garlan with his castle-forged sword his hand. Tygett wielding Red Rain wet with the blood of the mighty Tywin Lannister. They rode beside a dozen other great knights as well, far too many to name.

Lord Tarly could be seen bellowed commands, sending a thousand other voices screaming back at him as the van surged forward. A crescent of Lannister spearmen had formed hastily ahead of the van in response to their arrival, a double hedgehog bristling with steel, waiting behind shields marked with the lion of Casterly. Ser Garlan was the first on them, leading a wedge of armored knights, haft of whom withdrew at the last second, braking their charge before the row of spears. The others died, sharp steel points ripping through their chests. "To me!" Tygett commanded, gaining a small following of brave knights that saw the battered shieldwall as a weak point, the fools were broken and preoccupied with Garlan who had seemingly lost his mount but was more than able on foot. Tygett's charge was a success as the enemy line balanced on the brink of chaos.

"Took your sweet time!" Garlan greeted Tygett with a quick glance, cleaving a Lannister levy with his sword.

Tygett had no time for a response as he found himself rather engaged, "Shields!", he cried as a flight of arrows descended on them; where they came from he could not say, but they fell on Tyrell and Lannister alike, ratting off armor or finding flesh as Tygett continued to fight side by side with the gallant Tyrell, having lost his horse some time ago. The hedge crumbled, the Lannisters reeling back under the impact of the mounted assault, flights of arrows and not least, the handful of men that had passed their wall during the first clash. "Raise the banners!" Tygett cried aloud before lopping the head of a spear that came for him, raking his blade across the foes face on his backslash. "Raise the Stag!"

The command was echoed others and soon enough the enflamed stag crowned of the field rose above the Tyrell ranks, a signal as to their intent.

"For Tywin!" a voice rang out. "and King Joffrey!" Tygett spun to see the rather interesting sight of a western knight thundering at Garlan, swinging the spiked ball of a morning star around his head. Garlan raised his sword and the morning star wrapped around the blade, a dangerous position if not for Tygett being so close. He drove Red Rain into the back of the knights skull with greater ease than he was used to. "Valyrian steel." He said aloud to Garlan as they both shared a short lived laugh.

The sound of hooves coming up behind him made Tygett whirl, although he breathed a sign of relief to note the Tyrell colors.

The trumpets sounded again, da-DA da-DA da-DAAAAAAA, and Lord Mace finally joined the battle as his reserve came sweeping out of the woods. Tygett and Garlan rallied what remained of the vanguard and charged, although Mace's knights stormed past them as they thundered across the field towards the remaining Lannisters. Five hundred or so heavy knights, sunlight flashing off the points of their lances. The remnants of the Lannister lines shattered like glass beneath the hammer of their charge.

The rest of the battle outside the walls was a complete slaughter that ended almost as quickly as it began, with the men of the Reach and Stormlands once more under the same cause, fighting for the same king. It seemed that Stannis had broken through the Mud Gate of the capital shortly before the Lannister host had arrived, delayed by the fighting of Lann Reynes forces, allowing Stannis a strong foothold against the lions. Tyrells arrival on the flank was the nail in the coffin for the Lannisters.

Tygett rode under the portcullis of the The Lion Gate into the capital itself. He recalled his fathers tales of the Sacking of King's Landing during the Rebellion, details of the looting and rape and chaos that had gripped the city, details Tygett expected to see on the same level now. He was surprised to see those few in the Baratheon army that had partaken in such things being arrested for their crimes. Tygett couldn't claim to know Stannis well, but it seemed becoming King had only hardened his stance on justice.

"Nobody wants Stannis for King!" Loras Tyrell had shouted aloud when Tygett had begun the true talks with House Tyrell, the first 'talk' had been far too public with far too many eagerly listing ears. Looking back at it, Tygett feared that it was _his _actions that may have revealed his fathers plans to Tywin... that _he_ was to fault for the deaths.

Without the honeyed words of Baelish there to poison the Tyrells against him, it had proven a simple enough thing talking the Tyrells away from the Lannister cause; a cause that shown in the light proved to be as ugly as the rumors all claimed. He recalled the events clearly as he rode through the war torn streets of the capital...

"Nobody wants Stannis for King!" Loras shouted, much to the rooms concern.

"We do not get to pick and choose the law of succession as it pleases us." Tygett had explained, calmly. "Renly was no more a King than You, Loras, are Heir to Highgarden. Should you plot to usurp your brother Willas the day you decide your more worthy than him because of his handicap?" The look on Loras's face was one of shock, and anger.

"I would never!" He growled. "He is my brother!"

"And Stannis was Renlys." Tygett replied simply.

Loras would have said more, no doubt, if not for his grandmother.

"You would have us fight for Stannis," The Queen of Thorns said. "the very man that murdered his own brother, as you have said yourself."

"Lannister lies and slander," Tygett shook his head. "no different than their claim that his daughter is the bastard of his own court fool. We have seen well enough, my lady, the depths Lannisters will go to secure their power. Treason. Lies. And crimes that go against the seven themselves..."

"Yes." Lady Olenna replied. "What proof have you of that claim, hm?"

"My father and I have known for over a year for certain."

"You knew of such treason," Mace Tyrell spat from his seat. "and said nothing?!"

"We," Tygett paused. "and Stannis and the Lords Stark and Arryn. We all found the truth, and the latter two were murdered for it."

"To kill two Lord Paramounts..." Mace muttered to himself, suddenly concerned.

"It was a great secret my lord." Tygett looked to the Lord of Highgarden. "As I have said, the Lannisters are no stangers to lying. Stannis's alleged kinslaying was nothing more than yet another lie to undermine Casterly Rocks many enemies. You all know Stannis to be a hard man, true, but a man of justice. To kill his own brother? A poor lie."

Loras had lowered his head, muttering under his breath as his family seemed to be coming around to the idea. Was it actually true? Tygett couldn't say.

"And what of the succession?" Olenna added. "Stannis has no male heir and by all accounts a barren wife."

Tygett had thought of that, long term. "True enough," he began. "he would have his daughter inherit no doubt as the law allows. _If_ he fails to purpose a son."

"And then what?" Olenna persisted. "Yet another Dance of Dragons, perhaps?"

"If need be." Tygett said simply, earning an smirk from the Queen of Thorns.

"My sister could wed King Joffrey!" Loras suggested, interrupting the two. "She would become a Queen!"

Mace picked up at that idea, one Tygett was hitting himself for ever mentioning in public.

"A Queen to a ill-born pure blood Lannister bastard." Tygett stated coldly. "I dare say, Arthur would find you and kill you for putting Margaery though that."

The threat, or the mere suggestion, was enough to turn Mace's cheeks red with either anger of fear. Tygett suspected both.

Lady Olenna however was smiling. "How fares young Arthur?"

If Tygett was taken aback by the change of topic, he did not show it. "Much the same as you last saw him, my lady." Tygett then caught on to what the Queen of Thorns was thinking in her own devious way; his little brother and the lady Margaery had been inseparable during his squiring at Highgarden. He even went so far as to name her his Queen of Love and Beauty at his first tourney win. "Although," Tygett sighed for effect. "I fear the loss of his late wife may hit him hard."

Again, the Lady Olenna smiled, for a brief second before making a show of sympathy. "My condolences to the lad. If you'd leave us to discuss matters Ser Tygett?"

"My Lady." Tygett gave a nod, turning to Mace and his sons. "My Lords."

He returned to the chambers they'd given him hoping for the best outcome, in truth the Tyrells had him between a rock and a rather hard place. _"No,"_ he thought with a smile. _"between the Rock and a Dragon."_ Lann's plan had been a simple one, to gain the Tyrells allegiance, and if they refuse, seek out the dragons across the sea.

"Ser Tygett?" A voice came from his door.

"Enter." He replied. "And it's just Tygett, Lady Margaery. I've little taste for formalities among friends."

"Friends?" She asked, an eyebrow raised.

Tygett smiled at her confusion. "My brothers friends are my friends, or so I would hope."

She nodded with a smile of her own, a genuine one, it seemed.

"Have your family an answer for me?" Tygett asked. "Or need I flee Highgarden with my tail between my legs?"

She sighed. "I am to marry Arthur, it seems."

"You don't seem too thrilled by the prospect." Tygett noticed. "I recall a time not so long ago when Arthur had threatened to steal you away and flee to Essos with his Queen of Love and Beauty." She went wide-eyed at that, it was not a story that his father had let become public knowledge. Stealing a Queen of Love and Beauty started wars.

"He didn't." She asked, no one in particular. "No, that does sound like Arthur..."

Tygett continued the story. "Father shot down the thought with a fury. I've always suspected, the memory of Rhaegar stealing away Lyanna Stark and what it lead to... well... Queens of Love and Beauty have a way of getting men into trouble it seems." He drifted off at that, his own father had always wanted to crown his mother, before she passed.

"So," He shook himself from the thought. "my soon to be sister. What now?"

"My father requests you in the great hall." She explained. "He wishes to discuss the future, and other things."

"Your grandmother will be there no doubt."

She nodded knowingly.

"I'll be there shortly."

Back in the streets of King's Landing, Tygett cursed his future father-in-law for taking his sweet bloody time in attacking the Lannisters. They had been waiting for a 'opportune' moment. It was the smart play, he knew, but if they had attacked sooner perhaps his father would still live. He shook the grim thought, it did not do to dwell on past mistakes that he could not change. His brother would live, at least he had that much. "State your business!" A knight of Stannis's host ordered as they approached.

"Ser Garlan Tyrell, second son to Lord Mace Tyrell of Highgarden." Garlan introduced himself, a simple formality.

"And your friend?" The man looked dangerously at Tygett, eyeing his dirty golden hair suspiciously.

"Ser Tygett Reyne," he said echoing Garlans formal tone. "eldest son to the late Lann Reyne of Castamere and Knight of the Kingsguard to House Baratheon."

The stormlander simply nodded and permitted them entry to the large tent situated in the center of one of the streets many markets. The Red Keep it seemed still defiantly flew the Lannister-Baratheon banner and the portcullis had been closed; preventing Stannis from taking the throne. A mere delay, but an annoyance all the same.

"Your Grace." Garlan bent the knee.

"Your Grace. " Tygett followed.

"Rise, Sers." Stannis spoke. He looked much the same as his time on Roberts small council, as serious as ever. Arthur had disliked the man for his lack of humor.

"On behalf of my father," Garlan began. "Highgarden pledges fealty to Stannis of House Baratheon, First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm." It was obvious that Garlan took no great pride in the words, he had no love for Stannis, something many of his vassals could relate to.

"Your Grace." Tygett began, words his father should have been saying. "House Reyne, Sarsfield, Banefort, Kenning, Vikary and Farman pledge their loyalty to House Baratheon. Or at least," Tygett paused. "what's left of them after Tywins actions in the Kingswood. I fear a great many have fallen..."

"I accept your fealty," Stannis said plainly, all but ignoring Garlan. "now tell me Ser Tygett. What happened in those woods?"

Tygett gave as detailed an account of the events as he could manage. His trip to Highgarden. His fathers intentions to act against the Lannisters, although he left that much for Stannis to interpret, for in truth his father never cared whom sat the throne so long as Casterly Rock burned. If the Stag would not achieve that desire, the Dragon would.

"Lord Arthur lives?" Stannis interrupted Tygetts account of events, just as he arrived at the Tyrells timely rescue of his brother.

"Aye," Tygett replied. "last I laid eyes on him. Wounded, but breathing."

Stannis simply gave a nod in response. "Ser Garlan, take your men and join my own in the siege preparation."

"Your Grace." Garlan turned abruptly and left the tent.

Stannis watched the man leave as Tygett picked up where he left off.

"Place my brothers banner beside your own above the walls, Your Grace." He asked, knowing it would require an explanation. "Those inside the keep may yet change sides upon seeing my brothers banner, he trained the city watch, although he took the most loyal with him to Harrenhal. The few left inside may take it as a sign to-"

"And why should I accept them?" Stannis interrupted.

"I-" Tygett tried to explain.

"They fought and killed my men," The King went on. "long before you and the Tyrells decided to ride in and pick your side. By rights they should have laid down their arms as they would have for Robert. By rights, Ser, I should have heads on spikes by the morning. It is too convenient for men to recall duty when it suits them..."

"Your Grace, if I may?"

Tygett took silence as permission. In truth he did not disagree and cared little for those his brother had deemed less loyal than the others, but they were useful still.

"You are right." He said. "In a perfect world we all should have acted so much sooner. If we had perhaps my father might... still live. Surely what's important now is taking that keep without losing more lives? Should we not at least try? The war is far from over with the North in rebellion alongside the Isles and the West in civil war..."

"I know." Stannis uttered in his usual serious tone. "I know full well what must be done, Reyne."

Tygett was glad, and awaited the order patiently.

"So be it." Is all the order he received. "Join the siege. Your skills will be of use, no doubt."

It was not a compliment from Stannis so much as a simply statement of fact, yet Tygett felt he was warming to his new king all the same. He left the tent and made way to the siege lines where a battering ram was being prepared to take down the portcullis. The Red Keep would fall, and with it King Joffrey. _"King."_ He thought on the word, and what it would mean to drive his sword through that boys heart; likely while he pissed himself in terror. Could be become Tygett 'the Kingslayer'? Could he kill Jaimes son?

This had not been the plan, in truth. It was never planned this way. They were meant to have turned on Tywin as he charged the capital with the full force of those Western lords under the Reyne banner and been joined by the Tyrells shortly after for a shift and clean victory. Now? Lann Reyne was dead, and his eldest stood in his place.

_*Crash* _

The battering ram smashed the portcullis as the defenders on the outer wall of the Red Kept tossed rocks down at them. One bounced off Tygett's shield.

_*Crash*_

Tygett waited patiently, knowing it would not be long now.

_*Crash*_

The portcullis buckled and gave way to a wave of Reyne-Tyrell-Baratheon banners that poured through the gateway. "Charge!" Tygett had screamed, the first through the gate and into the battle that had already erupted inside among the defenders. It seemed the moment the gates fell those of Arthur's goldcloaks with any sense turned their blades on the Lannister men without second thought. Tygett had to hand it to his brother, he knew his men, and these held loyalty to themselves first and foremost.

Tygett had never taken a moment to admire his fathers blade. The grip on was wrapped in dark leather, lion heads on each end of the guard and the pommel itself boasting a larger and more detailed head. At the guards center stood an impressive ruby. The fuller was a dark grey with the blade itself a lighter shade, ripples going down it. She was beautiful. Red Rain drove gracefully into the chest of a redcloak, then another, and another and yet more as they fought through the halls cutting down those few that happened to be stationed inside the keep itself rather than outside holding the walls. Tygett and the others cut a path to the Great Hall with little resistance.

He had, along with Ser Garlan and his brother Loras, gathered a following of a hundred or so other knights and nobles as they burst into the Great Hall. The inner keep was practically empty. The Iron Throne stood at the end, towering above everything else on a raised iron dais with high and narrow steps. A long carpet stretched from the throne to the Hall's great oak-and-bronze doors. The Hall itself was cavernous, able to sit a thousand people. Oriented north to south, with high, narrow windows on the eastern and western walls. Skulls of the Targaryen dragons once adorned the walls, Tygett had been told by his father, but Robert Baratheon had them replaced with hunting tapestries at the beginning of his reign. _"To see this place in it's prime."_ Tygett had often thought of it's past glory. He really had to kick the habit of daydreaming...

On the throne sat Cersei Lannister, a sleeping girl in her lap whom Tygett knew to be Myrcella. He knew the girl to be a kind enough sort, unaffected by her mother no different than the boy Tommen. He would council mercy for them both, he vowed then. Cersei was muttering words to herself as she stroked the girls golden locks of hair.

"Cersei Lannister!" Tygett shouted, Red Rain resting casually on his shoulder.

The would be queen said nothing, eyes darting to Tygett for a moment before moving back to her daughter where the muttering continued. _"This women has no fight left in her."_ Tygett thought to himself, slowly moving towards the steps of the throne. "In the name of Stannis Baratheon you are to-"

Cersei Lannister's wine goblet fell to the floor with a clang and processed down the steps of the throne, silencing Tygett's words. The girl in her arms, whom he first thought was sleeping, later turn out to be dead upon closer inspection. Poison, a maester later confirmed, had been the cause. Cersei Lannister had taken the life of her own daughter and then ended her own in turn. Tygett said nothing as he stood in silence on the lower steps of the throne. For what was supposed to be a great victory, it felt hollow.

* * *

Notes: From this point onward we become very AU as the Reyne's deal with the aftermath of what is at best a pyrrhic victory. They are not out of the woods yet, although things are looking good at King's Landing, no doubt Tywin would've had plans in motion to deal with those traitors left in the Westerlands. That's all. - Soul


	21. Chapter 21: Growing Strong

Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire by George RR Martin, I do however own the non-canon character(s) of this story. This is purely a work of my personal enjoyment so I ask you to not expect anything worthy of the great GRRM. I fully welcome criticism/suggestions/questions. The story will eventually be finished (I hate leaving things unfinished) but I have no real schedule. Please review as I'd love useful feedback/thoughts about the story.

* * *

Notes/Reviews: Things go from bad to good for the Reynes. Tywin Lannister is dead, his host scattered to the wind, as Stannis Baratheon sits the Iron Throne. All is not won however as Tywin doubtless had plans in place for Lann's co-conspirators. Ser Tygett rides with his new allies in the hopes of saving Castamere from another sacking...

* * *

**Chapter 21: Growing Strong**

Arthur awoke in an unfamiliar room, standing at a table with a large number of men staring at him. Looking down, he was wearing armor, ornate and costly, all black and red plate with a helm on the table similar to his own but this one had batlike steel wings on the sides. "Where am I?" He spoke, but the others present seemed to ignore him.

"The time to strike is now, brother." Another man, directly to his right, looked him in the eyes.

"Brother?" Arthur spoke, unable to move from his position despite his best efforts. "What is this madn-"

"Yes." Another of the men spoke with a satisfied grin. "I'll have those terms, it is a long time coming."

"Aye!" More of the gathered lords cried, each bending the knee to Arthur and swearing fealty as the 'brother' to his right whispered something incoherent in his ear.

The room faded to black and suddenly Arthur found himself blinded by the sun, a dead horse to his side, and a blade in his hand as a man armored in all white charged forward to strike him down. Until before he could actually move, bringing up his sword and locking with the white knight. "Valyrian steel." Arthur muttered aloud, noticing that both blades were far from your average metal. "Gentle Mother, font of mercy," A women's voice sang from seemingly nowhere. "Save our sons from war, we pray."

"Ha!" The white knight laughed at him, for a reason that Arthur was oblivious to. The knights strikes came swift, the man was skilled, but Arthur seemed to know every move he'd make as if he'd fought the battle before and won it a hundred times. In what seemed like moments the white knight was dead, his cloak being used to wipe the blood from-

_"Beautiful."_ Was the first word that came to mind when he looked at the blade in his hand, the one that he seemed to still be cutting foes down with despite his mind being elsewhere. The grip was wrapped in dark leather, dragon heads with ruby eyes on each end of the guard and the pommel itself boasting a larger and more detailed head. At the guards center stood an impressive ruby. The fuller was darker than the void with the blade itself a lighter shade, ripples going down it. She was indeed beautiful.

"Stay the swords and stay the arrows," The voice kept singing sadly, echoing in Arthur's head. "Let them know a better day."

A young man fell to his knees a few feet away, his dying eyes making Arthur shed a tear. A hundred arrows darkened the sky, everything vanishing into the darkness. He found himself in a far more unfamiliar room, this time alone in the darkness. Looking around he noted a women, beautiful, slender, with black eyes and a flat chest. In the flickering torchlight she sat on her bedside cradling a babe, her voice braking as she sang. "Gentle Mother, font of mercy. Save my son from war, I pray."

"Hello?" Arthur spoke, stepping cautiously towards the women.

She turned and stared right through him, tears in her eyes. Arthur could not tell if she was looking at him or the shadowy figure that had appeared behind him, but the women was now smiling sadly. He smiled back before waves of fire crashed through the windows with a roar and submerged the room, a feeling of dread washing over him as the flames burnt the women and the figure, sparing only him, alone with the ashes with orbs of crimson staring at him from the shadows. He awoke in a panic, sweating heavily and instinctively reaching for a weapon of any sort. He found only the softness of a feathered bed and a somewhat familiar smell in the air; gone was the fire and shadow.

"Ah," A voice spoke casually, the faint smell of lilac clinging to the air. "You had us worried there for awhile, my lord."

Arthur pushed himself up on the bed, eyes darting to the owner of the voice. "Varys." He confirmed. "I should have known it would be you." He knew almost instantly where he was, without a doubt inside the Red Keep. "Where are we?" He asked, unfamiliar with the room. "What happened with the battle?", "Where are the Lannisters?"

Varys smiled thinly. "The battle was won," He assured with little emotion, still standing vigil at Arthur's bedside. "as Ser Tygett arrived with the Tyrells just in time to hand Stannis victory. As for the Lannisters?" Varys shrugged. "Stannis has yet to sentence them, although his red women is intent on burning them alive..."

"Are we to follow in Aerys footsteps now?" Arthur mocked, noting that his leg felt stiff, but still able enough. It could be worse.

"Your brother has spoken out against it, as have many others." Varys replied, hiding his own thoughts well.

Arthur simply gave a nod, feeling the wound on his leg.

"The leg will heal fully in time."

Varys, so it seemed, had all the answers. Arthur moved to get out of bed.

"You should rest." The spider protested.

"I've rested long enough, I think."

Varys seemed to know better than to think this a battle he could win. He held out a walking cane, seemingly from nowhere.

Arthur took it with a single thought._ "Willas is laughing at me, I know it."_

In truth he was fairly sure he could walk unaided, but Varys would not let up for a moment. For a man that portrayed a innocent and otherwise helpless showing, the truth was another tale entirely. With this in mind, Arthur used the cane to limit the weight on his leg and moved to the door that the spider was holding open for him. Until-

"Brother!" A dark blur crashed into Arthur's legs, as if to attack him.

"Robb." Arthur smirked, ignoring the pain. "Your crushing my leg."

He went wide-eyed at that, releasing Arthur from his embrace and taking a step back before showering him in apologies.

Arthur waved them off. "It's good to see you, little lion."

"Tygett said you'd be fine." Robb smiled, no longer hanging his head.

"And we mustn't argue with Tygett." Arthur replied with a smirk, messing up his brothers hair. "You up for helping me get to the king?"

Robb gave a nod, still smiling away as he gladly took on his new duty. Not helping in truth as he held onto his brothers free arm, but the boy had been through a lot. _"Let him help."_ Arthur thought. The three made their way the short distance between the rooms Arthur had been given and the great hall where King Stannis would be.

The spider had crawled back to his web as Arthur pushed open the door to the throne room, gaining the immediate attention of every noble in attendance; ranging from Reachmen to Crownlanders and everyone between. "His Lordship," A man announced his arrival. "Arthur Reyne, Lord of Castamere and Savior of the City."

_"Savior?"_ Arthur thought as he walked towards the throne, the crowd whispering, it seemed that Tygett had been busy. Was this his doing or that of Stannis?

He stood at the foot of the Iron Throne, the great monstrosity of spikes and jagged edges and twisted metal. Stannis Baratheon looked uncomfortable, the back of the throne being fanged with steel that made leaning back impossible. Aegon I had it made this way deliberately, saying that a king should never sit easy. Arthur put more weight on the cane than was necessary, appearing to be weaker than he was. "Your Grace. I would kneel, but I fear my leg is yet to heal fully."

Stannis learnt forward on the seat. "Lord Reyne. The maester tells me your to make a full recovery, no?"

Arthur bowed his head for a moment, placing his free a hand on Robb's shoulders. "In time, Your Grace."

"Good." Stannis said simply, eyeing the obvious question on the lions face. He did not waste time. "I, Stannis Baratheon, King of the Andals the Rhoynar and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, do hereby name Arthur Reyne as Warden of the West and Lord of Castery Rock."

_"Yes,"_ Arthur though with a subtle smirk. _"Tygett has been busy."_

Stannis was not finished, although Arthur felt it was for show more than anything. "House Lannister, for the crime of treason and other numerous offences to the realm, are stripped of all rank and title. I denounce them, curse them and name them as enemies of the realm." The crowd cheered, long expected Arthur assumed.

"I thank His Grace for the great honor," Arthur spoke above the crowd. They hushed to listen, or at least returned to their whispering and muttering. "yet it was my father that promised the lords a choice in whom would lead them after Tywins fall and I would be amiss to brake my fathers word to them..."

"My Lord." A man Arthur knew to be the eldest son of Lord Banefort stepped out from the crowd.

"Lord Reyne." Another man, this one Lord of Faircastle.

"My Lord." And another stepped forward. The second eldest of Lord Sarsfield.

There were others too, those previously unaligned with the Reynes and too afraid of Tywin to ever consider betraying him, having survived the Battle of the Blackwater and lived to pledged allegiance to King Stannis now that the mighty Tywin was dead. Yarwyck, Yew, Peckledon and Foote to name a handful of the numerous minor lordlings that had been captured in battle and bent the knee afterwards, doubtless, they expected rewards from House Reyne for their supposed and sudden loyalty.

"My Lord." The final man caught his attention more than the others.

"Lord Serrett." Arthur addressed him, a touch surprised. The man simply nodded in reply.

"As you can see," Stannis said from atop his throne. "your lords have chosen. It is done."

Arthur looked at each of them quickly, ambitious perhaps and given little choice in the matter, but they had forsworn the Lannisters. It was a start. "Then I accept this duty, Your Grace." He turned back to the king with a wide smile. "I swear to uphold the Kings peace and be worthy of the honor." The words were empty, but necessary all the same.

The rest of the evening was tiresome at best as Stannis held court to those nobles he had not already rewarded or punished, or both in some cases. Ser Rolland Storm was legitimized and named Lord of Nightsong in light of his fathers death at the hands of Ser Philip Foote, a cousin to the head of House Foote, one of many minor families that had bent the knee and now proclaimed loyalty to House Reyne and King Stannis. Arthur did not trust them. Words were wind, as his own father was a testament to.

Lord Mace Tyrell was granted a seat on the small council as master of ships, his son Loras a position in the Kingsguard. Ser Garlan Tyrell was named the newest Commander of the City Watch, a role Arthur could no longer fulfill as Warden of the West. He did not begrudge his childhood friend the position. Lesser awards consisted of knighthoods, suits of armor and other such gifts from the crown to those that stood out in the fighting. There were few if any rewards for Western lords, something that they did not fail to notice.

_"They should consider themselves lucky."_ Arthur thought as he watched the nobles began to leave the room.

"Are we to get nothing?" Lord Banefort mutter to himself, standing to Arthur's left.

Arthur looked at him and raised a brow. "Have you achieved something of note, my lord?"

"I-" Banefort glared at the newest additions to the Reyne company. "Some of us, at least, have stood by you since your father-"

"My father." Arthur snapped, eyes darting to the old man. "Believed strongly in rewarding those that proved themselves loyal and true. It is something I too believe in my lord, unlike Tywin. I am not however, regardless of what Stannis names me, the Lord of anything until my banner flies over Casterly Rock. Until that day we-"

"We fought and die-"

"I am NOT finished!"

Arthur waited patiently, for any of his new lords to interrupt him again. None did.

"There will be ample opportunity for you to prove yourselves." He looked at every man that stood near him, lords and knights both. "For _all_ of you."

Banefort lowered his head. Arthur did not care for his opinion, the lord of a small castle with no choice but to back him or find himself surrounded and doomed with not an ally to count on. The words were meant for those new to his cause, those of fresh loyalty, eager for assurance that their actions would not be forgotten. With this, in not so subtle a way, Arthur had made it clear that there was opportunity for all to prove themselves. "This war is far from over." He took his leave of the throne room.

Margaery found her betrothed in one of the larger chambers of Maegor's Holdfast, a massive square fortress inside the heart of the Red Keep, a castle-within-a-castle. He'd been easy to find, as the servants directed her towards the room that Arthur it seemed would frequent on occasion that his duties did not keep him elsewhere. The door to the chamber opened with a creek and grabbed the attention of the man inside. He was alone, Margaery noted, standing by a window looking solemn.

He looked much as she remembered. Tall and beautiful, with hauntingly dark violet eyes and fair dirty-golden hair that shun silver in the moonlight.

"Lann Reyne was not a good man." Arthur kept his gaze looking out at the city, the personal banner of Stannis Baratheon flying proudly above the walls across the city. "He was not honorable. He was not kind. He plotted and schemed, consumed by a vengeance he let fester for years. I fear in the end he was little better than what he hated..."

"Arthur..."

"Stannis." Arthur interrupted. "Now there is a good man, perhaps not a kind one by any means, but good all the same."

She had moved to his side. "You respect the king?"

"He does not smile nearly enough." Arthur smirked, deep in thought. "In the Siege of Storm's End, during the rebellion. Did your father tell you about it?"

She nodded. "My fathers greatest achievement, he would have people think. In truth I think he sat and feasted while-"

"-Stannis starved." Arthur finished. "He ate rats and boot leather as I've learnt. Until a lone smuggler took it upon himself to run the Redwyne blockade to smuggle onions into the castle. Stannis had the food shared equally and only ate once everyone else had a bowl, despite his own hunger. Tell me, how many lords would do such a thing?"

"Very few." She admitted, with no attempt to cover the truth with honey.

"As a reward for his service, Stannis knighted the smuggler, but not before taking the first joint from each finger of his left hand as payment for his past crimes."

"Ser Davos," She noted. "the King's hand?"

"A man of undying loyalty, that one." Arthur turned his head to look at her for a moment, as beautiful as he remembered.

"The servants said you came here often." Margaery looked around at the room, large enough for royalty, yet strangely underused by the looks of things.

"Did they tell you anything else?"

"No." She answered simply. "Should they have?"

Arthur hesitated for a moment, as if picking his words carefully. "This room," he turned his back to the window and put his back up against the cold stone wall. "is where Elia Martell breathed her last at the end of the rebellion. And over there," Arthur nodded in the direction of the eastern wall. "is where a mere babe was murdered."

"I-" Margaery paused to think. What did he want from her? It was clear he found the act disgusting, and to be frank, so did she. "It was a dreadful thing," She opted with agreement, both the safe road and the true one. "what happened here. But-" She hesitated, as Arthur stared at her waiting patiently for whatever answer he wanted. He was testing her, Margaery knew, just as she knew how this was not the boy she'd known as a child. "why trouble yourself over things you cant change?"

Arthur kept his face blank. "Reyne, Martell, Stark," he paused for but a moment. "Targaryen. We have all suffered at Lannister hands."

"Tywin Lannister is dead." She opted to comfort him with the fact.

"Tywin is dead." Arthur agreed, a genuine smirk on his lips that died as quickly as it came. "Yet it did not bring back the dead."

"You have avenged them, Arthur." Margaery smiled brightly.

"Not yet." He replied with sigh before pushing himself off the wall, taking the hand his betrothed was offering and walking in silence as they left the room behind. _"Not yet."_ Arthur thought as they walked. He'd missed her, true enough, and thinking on it as he held her hand there was still a part of him that even now wished to run off with her.

* * *

Tygett left the capital shortly after the funeral of his father and now rode at the head of a Reyne-Tyrell host beside Garlan Tyrell, twin-commanders of a joint host numbering in the range of around forty thousand, moving along the Gold Road towards the Westerlands to bring the Lannisters to the kings justice; although it would not be the Stag to deliver the blow. The thorns would hold the crimson lions still, as the red lion clawed out it's preys throat, attacking from the East and South in tandem.

Moving along the road at what Tygett named in jest as a reachmens pace, came swords and pikes and spears with shields of bright red and green that shun in the daylight. Behind those were thousands of archers, with longbows and crossbows; less effective at range but requiring less skill and training, easily ending even the most armored of knights if aimed well enough. Lastly was the assortment of heavy cavalry, the true claws of any lords army, none their rival... a matter of heavy debate between the Reachmen and Westermen whom argued often and loudly about various topics, knights and honor being paramount among them.

"Why do they call it the Gold Road?" Came the voice of Edric Dayne, Tygetts cousin, and newest squire.

Tygett looked to his side at the boy, with his pale blond hair and dark blue eyes that appear purple in the right light. The boy had grown more bold since the Battle of the Blackwater; earning a few scars of his own and coming out of the conflict alive when so many others had fallen. The boy had the luck of the gods about him, to go through so much at such a young age. Tygett smiled at his cousin. "The road begins at the Lion Gate of King's Landing, extending west along the Blackwater and," Tygett looked around him as if to make an obvious point. "through the portion of the northern Reach that we current ride through lad. As for the name? Lannisters like gold."

"Hm," Edric thought in silence. "do you think we'll see battle again soon cousin?"

"Payne Hall is not far to the north of the road," Tygett thought openly. "but they cannot field the men to challenge us and would be fools to do anything but hide behind their meager walls and pray we ignore him." And they would ignore them, unless they were foolish enough to ride out. "No. We ride for Deep Den and, most like, a siege."

"House Lydden." Edric blurted out the name of the house.

"Aye," Tygett confirmed. "A white badger on a per pale green and brown field, truly a fearsome sight to behold."

This made Edric smile and in turn made Tygett happy to have given the boy some moment of joy before what would be a bloody campaign. Lord Serrett's shift of allegiance after his capture meant that Silverhill was with them and would be spared from what would've otherwise been the first castle to fall; unless the host from Highgarden got to Crakehall first. Tygett doubted that Lord Lydden would kneel, badger or no, he'd have no choice but to uphold his family honor as protectors of the road; the mans castle sitting pretty in the hilly and mountainous terrain east of Lannisport, with Hornvale to the north and Silverhill to the south. The Goldroad passed between them, right beside Deep Den.

* * *

The wedding was to be a small and fairly rushed affair, despite the insistence of Mace Tyrell who seemed to wish a wedding feast fit for a king. On one hand the man seemed to want the best for his daughter, while the other hand slapped you with the knowledge that the man only truly wanted a show of power; he couldn't care less for Arthur's bride, only for his families standing. The Fat Flower was all too easy to read. Arthur knew well that the reach would be far better off in the hands of Willas.

"You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection." The Septon spoke as Arthur draped a red cloak with silver lining around his brides shoulders. "In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one, for eternity." tying together the couples hands with a red ribbon. "Look upon one another and say the words." At this point, Arthur and Margaery turn to face each other and begin to recite their vows in unison.

"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger, I am hers and she is mine from this day until the end of my days."

"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger, I am his and he is mine from this day until the end of my days."

"Let it be known that Margaery of the House Tyrell and Arthur of the House Reyne, are one heart and flesh, one soul." The septon paused, "Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder." The hall erupted in cheers and soon husband and wife walked from the Great Sept of Baelor, where Stannis had generously allowed the 'Savior of the City' to be wed much to the peoples merriment. The crowds of smallfolk were gathered outside to greet the newly weds, the savior and the Tyrells, equally responsible for food and provisions returning to the city; ceasing the hard times that had befallen the capitals people. They'd forgotten the wildfire and destruction. The mob was fickle.

"Bed them!" The call came from one of the more drunken lord, a Westerman at a glance. Most like, Arthur thought, drowning his doubts and sorrows.

Margaery stood up before he did, offering a reassuring smile to her husband. Arthur stood up and locked arms with her as the pair walked past the well-wishers and drunkards. It was tradition that the bride be stripped of her garments as she exited, but Arthur had easily persuaded King Stannis that such custom was not necessary. _"More than a few men here were disappointed at that."_ Arthur thought as he walked with his wife towards the chambers provided to them, having left the hall and drunkenness behind.

Arthur later figured how he must have looked standing there mute like a simple minded fool as his wife undressed before their marriage bed. The moonlight crept through the window as she, naked as her nameday, got under the covers of the feather bed. "Husband." Margaery called him over to her with a warm and confident smile.

"Wife." He shook himself from his thoughts, moving in to kiss her before his mind could betray him and say anything stupid.

"Wife," She smirked at the title. "I like that."

"I should hope so." Arthur spoke before being pulled into her embrace, the young lion now truly trapped in the roses thorns. He'd later be beset by thoughts of his first wife and the child they never had. He'd remember Tywins words on the battlefield and the many questions left unanswered. For now though, he didn't care about any of it.


End file.
